LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

— ;S6 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



STEPS TO ORATORY 



A SCHOOL SPEAKER 



BY 



F. TOWNSEND SOUTHWICK 

PRINCIPAL OF THE NEW YORK SCHOOL OF EXPRESSION 
AUTHOR OF "ELOCUTION AND ACTION," ETC. 



:>X*c 



NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:• CHICAGO 

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 



1 



35023 



[Library of Co 

I Two Cowes Received 
AUG 10 1900 

Copynght entry 

SECOND COPY. 

Delivered to 

ORDER DIVISION, 
SEP 21 1900 






©erjtcatEti to 
JOHN A. BROWNING 

80118 



Copyright, 1900, by. F. Townsend Softhwiok. 

SOU. STEPS TO OKATOBY 
E-P 2 



PREFACE 



This collection includes representative selections from 
the best literature, arranged and condensed for effective 
use in school declamation. 

Part First gives a sufficient outline of the technique to 
guide the student, but presupposes some knowledge and 
training on the part of the teacher. 1 

Part Second consists entirely of selections, arranged as 
closely as practicable on a historical plan, but interspersed 
with examples of colloquial and humorous styles, the study 
of which will help to counteract the tendency toward a 
stilted and declamatory manner. 

The criticism has been justly made that the so-called 
old elocution did not take sufficient account of funda- 
mental psychological processes. On the other hand, cer- 
tain recent methods erred quite as greatly in ignoring the 
technique of voice and action. If the old school often 
fostered a mechanical and "elocutionary" delivery, the 
tendency to rely exclusively on thought and impulse has 
resulted quite as often in either cold self-conscious intel- 
lectualism, or impassioned rant, according to the idiosyn- 
crasy of teacher or pupil. A truly philosophical method 
will be coordinative from the outset, and a considerable 

1 The author's primer of Elocution and Action [New York: Edgar S. 
Werner] is recommended as a supplementary text-book for students who 
wish a more complete knowledge of the subject, as well as for teachers 
who are unfamiliar with the technical problems of the art. An advanced 
treatise is in preparation. 

3 



4 PREFACE 

experience with professional .students, representing both 
new and old methods, lias convinced me that sonic such 
combination of psychic and physical training as is illus- 
trated herein is the only one which can produce satisfac- 
tory results. 

The order of study is that which I have used with suc- 
cess. It will be noticed that each step is exemplified by 
a number of selections. While it may be necessary to 
anticipate occasionally, the best plan is to dwell upon each 
step until it is mastered. For instance, in the study of 
phrasing, while the teacher might correct some obvious 
fault of emphasis, the pupil's attention should not be dis- 
tracted from phrase grouping and pause. The teacher 
should note, however, that though the imaginative and 
emotional processes are more fully considered in later 
chapters, they are touched upon in the introductory chap- 
ter, and that expression presupposes from the outset the 
fullest possible coordination of all the psychic processes. 

Rightly studied, as the art of interpretation, elocution 
is a key to the spiritual meaning of all great literature. 
No man was ever yet truly eloquent in an ignoble cause, 
and no boy or girl can live in communion with eloquence 
without being helped to a nobler ideal of personal conduct. 

Acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Harper & Brothers 
and the Century Company for permission to use copy- 
righted selections. I wish especially to thank Messrs. 
Houghton, Mifflin, & Company for permission to use the 
copyrighted selections from the works of Bryant, Hay, 
lligginson, Holmes, and Whipple, of which they are the 
authorized publishers. 



F. TOWNSEND SOUTHWICK. 



The New York School of Expression, 
318 W. 57th Street. 



CONTENTS 



PART I 

CHAPTER 

I. Introduction .... 

II. Attitudes of the Body 

III. Logical Expression 

IV. The Melody of Emphasis . 
V. Inflection .... 

VI. The Eye and Face in Reading 

VII. Breathing 

VIII. Vocal Power .... 

IX. Enunciation .... 

X. Oratorical Delivery . 

XI. Gesture 

XII. Descriptive Expression 

XIII. Descriptive Expression 

XIV. Dramatic Expression . 
XV, Dramatic Attitudes 



7 

10 

17 

27 

37 

51 

65 

79 

95 

110 

119 

135 

148 

179 

190 



PART II 



Miscellaneous Selections 
Index to Authors 
Index to Selections 



219 
457 
461 



PAET I 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTORY 

The art of reading consists in speaking the words of 
another so as to bring out their full meaning. But words 
are not important in themselves ; they are only the signs 
of things, of ideas about things, or of feelings awakened 
by these. That is, we usually speak, not to utter sounds 
merely, but to tell others what we think or feel, Or to 
describe what we have seen or heard. 

Literature is the effort of man to express himself by 
written language, and to read literature aloud requires 
not merely command of the voice, but complete under- 
standing of and sympathy with the thoughts and emo- 
tions of the author. 

When the poet writes : — 

I would not enter on ray list of friends 

(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, 

Yet wanting sensibility) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 

— Cowper, The Task. 

it is not merely for the amusement of composing verse, 
but because he hates cruelty and wishes to express his 
sentiments in language that shall not only be adequate to 
his meaning, but which, being cast in poetic form, will be 
more likely to be read and remembered than if it were in 
prose. So, the reader of these lines must regard his art, 
not as a mere means of playing with sounds and emotions, 

7 



g SCHOOL SPEAKER 

but of teaching the lesson of kindness. To say with real 
expression: — 

He prayeth best who lovetli best 
All things, both great and small, 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 

— Coleridge, Ancient Mariner. 

the speaker must believe what he says. 

Not only must one believe, but he must wish to make other* 
believe, and try to read so that they shall agree with him. 

He will do this most effectively if he reads or speaks so 
well that his auditors forget that he is reading at all, and 
almost imagine that he is speaking his own words. The 
highest compliment that can be paid to a reader or reciter 
is not : "How well } r ou recited that poem ! " but " What 
a beautiful poem you recited ! " or " I never appreciated 
that poem until you interpreted it for me ! " 

That is the ideal toward which our studies should tend, 
and it is as important for the student of oratory as for the 
elocutionist. So long as the audience are occupied with 
the gestures or even the language of the orator, he has 
failed. It is only when they become so interested in the 
matter that they forget the manner that lie can be said to 
succeed. But this does not mean that manner should be 
neglected, for he who has a bad manner will find not only 
that it distracts the attention of his audience, but that the 
consciousness of awkwardness or inefficiency is a constant 
source of embarrassment to himself. 

Words are not only signs of ideas ; they picture or 
Hii<i<jest pictures. 

The words u a mad dog," for instance, call up at once 
in our minds, not the forms of the letters composing the 
words, or the mere sounds the, letters make, but a menta] 



INTRODUCTORY 9 

"image" or "picture." Some of us who have vivid 
imaginations could, perhaps, see a very clear picture, 
with many accessories, such as people running away from 
the dog, the street or road where the beast is, even the 
size, color, and other peculiarities of the animal, the foam 
which flecks his snapping jaws, and the glare of his 
eyes as he rushes toward us. Perhaps some think they 
hear the cries of the frightened people or the fierce growls 
of the creature. This action of the mind in picturing is 
called imagination. But the thought or vivid image of a 
mad dog will probably call up something like the unpleas- 
ant feelings we should have if we really saw one, just as 
the thought of a long vacation causes pleasure. These and 
like feelings we know as emotions and sensations. 

Thought, imagination, and feeling are the inner, or men- 
tal processes, which find expression in voice and action. 

If we would express naturally, we must think and feel 
naturally. 

Rules will help us, but they cannot supply the place of 
mental action. 

In order to express our thoughts as we would Avish, 
both voice and body must be trained to respond to the 
mind. Ease of manner is attained by command of the 
body and of the voice. 

Our first exercises must necessarily be somewhat mechan- 
ical and less interesting than those that follow later, but 
in no art or accomplishment can skill be obtained without 
drudgery. Neglect of fundamentals is the cause of half 
the failures in life. 

In this book we have no space for explaining the reasons 
for all our exercises, but the student may be sure that 
they have been tested by practical experience, and that, if 
faithfully practiced, they will lead to success. 



< IIAPTEK II 



ATTITUDES OF THE BODY 



ATTENTION OH " RESPECT 



EXERCISE I 

Bring the heels together and stand perfectly straight, 
as a soldier would, with arms at the sides, weight not on 
the heels, but on the middle of the foot, 
" eyes front." Avoid stiffness, but try to 
feel as tall as possible. 

EXERCISE II 

(1) Inhale through the nostrils slowly, 
rilling the lungs from the waist to the 
top of the chest, but without lifting 
the shoulders. (2) Hold the breath. 
(3) Slowly exhale. Imagine you inhale 
the perfume of a rose. Be careful not to 
protrude the stomach when breathing, 
but rather to draw it in. 

EXERCISE III 

Breathing in the same way, (1) rise 
slowly but gently, as if trying to reach 
the ceiling with your head, until the 
heels are as high off the floor as possible without loss of 
balance. (2) Keep this position and hold the breath. 
Imagine that the breath in your lungs holds you up as 

10 




ATTITUDES OF THE ROPY H 

the hydrogen would raise a balloon. (3) As you exhale, 
come back to the original position. 

The Attitude of Attention or Respect is preliminary 
to the bow. In practising for public appearance, it is 
well to walk forward a few steps, as you would on the 
platform, then bring the heels together as you face your 
audience. 

EXERCISE IV 

BOWING 

Standing as before, bend the head slowly, glancing 
from one to another of an imaginary audience as you 
do so. Do not drop the eyes to the floor. The trunk or 
torso should have a slight sympathetic inclination. The 
orator's manner should always be dignified. On the plat- 
form he first bows to the presiding officer, then to the 
audience. If the auditorium is of considerable size, or if 
he is received with especial applause, he may find it nec- 
essary to bow several times, to the right, left, balconies, 
etc., but without good reason he would do better to con- 
fine himself to a single simple acknowledgment. 

When a lady bows, one foot is retired with the knee 
bent, and the body sinks back upon it, then returns 
to the erect position. This action should not be over- 
done. The elaborate courtesy is out of place on the 
platform. 

EXERCISE V 

FOR FLEXIBILITY AND EASE OF THE BODY 

(1) Slowly bend the body forward as far as possible, 
the arms hanging loosely at the sides. Be sure that the 
movement is a blend of first head, then torso, and that 
the torso bends in a curve, not as if the body were 



12 



SCHOOL SPEAKEB 



hinged or 
where. 



join 



ted nt the waist and neck and rigid else- 



(2) Let the body remain in this position until 
every joint and muscle of the 
torso, neck, and arms is per- 
fectly free and hangs by its own 
weight. (3) Return slowly to 
an erect position. Repeat sev- 
eral times, or go on to (4) Bend 
backward in the same way. 
(5) Return. (6) Bend to the 
right side. (7) Return. 
(8) Bend to the left. (9) Re- 
turn. (10) Circle the torso, i.e. 
bend forward, and then carry 
the torso successively to the 
right, back, left, front, etc., in 

a circle, letting the arms go as gravitation compels them. 

(11) Return to the erect position, and finally (12) Bow 

as described above. 1 




EXERCISE VI 



FLEXIBILITY OF THE NECK 



Holding the torso erect, bow and circle the head alone 
in the same way. Later, combine intonation with this 
exercise to insure freedom of the larynx in speaking, as 
directed in Chapter VII. 



1 In the above exercise the hip will naturally sway in the opposite 
direction from the chest in order to maintain the balance. Do not try 
to prevent this. If dizziness results, practice more gently and for a 
shorter time. 



ATTITUDES OF THE BODY 



13 



EXERCISE VII 

THE SPEAKER'S POSITION 



Having finished your bow, carry the weight of the 
body to one foot only by swaying the hip out at the 
side, until the median line of the 
body is over the middle of the foot. 
jfhis foot is called the strong foot, 
as it supports the body. When this 
position is taken with perfect ease, 
the body is no longer stiffly erect, 
but has a graceful and flexible ap- 
pearance. The shoulders oppose, as 
we say, the hip, being inclined 
slightly toward the weak or free 
side of the body, while the head 
again inclines slightly toward the 
strong side. The free foot, that is, 
the one which does not support the 
weight, should be carried outward a 
little, either laterally or obliquely. 
Be sure that it rests only on the 
inner edge and that the free knee is 
perfectly relaxed. It makes no difference whether you 
stand on the right or left foot. 

With the free foot about opposite the strong foot, the 
position is normal or neutral. With the strong foot 
retired, the free foot obliquely in front, the position is 
expressive of concentration, command, or repose. With 
the strong foot advanced, free foot obliquely retired, the 
attitude expresses animation, attraction. 

In addressing an audience we usually reserve the last 




14 



SCHOOL SPEAKER 



position for moments when we are especially desirous of 
winning their sympathy. 

Avoid unnecessary movements of the body. 

We shift the weight from one foot to another only when 
there is a reason for it. When a new paragraph is begun 
or when there is a decided transition of thought, it is 
well to emphasize the fact by a considerable pause and by 
a change of the weight from one foot to another. The 
following exercises will aid in gaining grace and ease in 
attitude. 



EXERCISE VIII 



TESTS OF POISE 



Standing as above, (1) tap the floor with the free foot, 
in front, behind, at the side, and across the body, and notice 
whether this disturbs the poise of the body. (2) Place 
the free foot at the back of and around 
the strong ankle, without disturbing the 
poise. (3) With the free foot around 
the ankle, throw the arms about freely, 
or (4) Rise on one foot without change 
of poise. 

Be sure that, in all these exercises, 
the body does not stiffen. 




EXERCISE IX 

SWAYING THE HIP 



Plying the hands on the hips, sway the hip out over the 
strong side as far as possible. Then sway to the opposite 
side until the hip is as far as possible over the foot. Let 



ATTITUDES OF THE BODY 



15 



the shoulders move as little as possible. Do this in all 
directions, laterally and obliquely. 





EXERCISE X 



TRANSITION OF POISE 



Change the weight from one foot to the other by gently 
swaying the hip. Imagine that you address various per- 
sons in different parts of the room. For example, stand- 
ing on the right foot : — 

(1) Look toward some one or something obliquely at 
your left, (2) transfer the weight to the left foot, that is, 
the foot that is nearest the object of your attention, (3) oc- 
casionally raise the arm in the following order, upper arm, 
forearm, hand, as if to shake hands with the person you 
address. (4) Slowly relaxing the arm, turn in the oppo- 
site direction, and repeat the exercise. Be careful not to 



16 



SCHOOL SPKAKKR 



shuffle the feet. Practice turning in all possible direc- 
tions, advancing the foot, retiring, turning halfway 
around, etc., but always noticing that the free foot points 
in tlie new direction before you change the weight. This 
does away with the very ungraceful screwing about of the 
foot after the weight of the body is on it. 



EXERCISE XI 

Keeping the body erect (with the heels together at the 
start), (1) advance the free foot as far as possible with 
the knee bent. (2) Transfer the weight. (3) Spring 
back to the opposite position, but on the same foot. 
(4) Spring forward. Practice in all directions. The arms 
may be as in the diagram, or in any other strong attitude. 





CHAPTER III 

LOGICAL EXPRESSION 

The simplest forms of expression are those which for 
convenience we designate as Logical ; that is, dealing 
chiefly with thoughts, or statements of facts, and the rela- 
tions of one idea or fact to another. 

The simplest of the logical forms is called the Didactic 
style of speaking, because it aims to instruct, to give in- 
formation, rather than to amuse us or excite our sympa- 
thies. The manner which we habitually use in ordinary 
intercourse is called the Conversational style of ad- 
dress. It is not so precise and exact as the didactic. 
The most familiar form of conversation is the Collo- 
quial. Such expressions as don't for do not, we'll for we 
will, and familiar forms of address, like hello, old fellow ! 
are examples of colloquial diction. So, the delivery of 
colloquial language should be more careless and familiar 
than that of the other forms of logical expression. 

But, curiously enough, though we all speak colloquially, 
few of us can read with even a fair imitation of the con- 
versational manner. It is enough, at first, if we succeed 
in reproducing the didactic style. 

In the following illustration, Webster, one of the great- 
est of orators, endeavors to impress upon us the necessity 
for cultivating those powers which are the basis of all 
true oratorical success. 

SOD. SCH. SPEA. 2 17 



18 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occa- 



sions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions ex- 



cited, nothing is valuable in speech, further than it is connected 
with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, 



and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction. 

How shall we read this so as to make it impressive ? 

First of all, by thinking Webster's thoughts over again, — 
not merely thinking about them, but convincing ourselves 
of their truth ; and, second, by endeavoring to impress those 
thoughts upon our auditors so that they shall be convinced. 
It is hardly necessary to say that in order to do this, one 
must thoroughly understand the meaning of the author he 
would interpret. To express naturally Ave must concen- 
trate on one thought at a time. A group of words that 
expresses a single thought or feeling, describes a single 
event, or pictures one scene for us, is called a phrase. 

The greatest essential in phrasing, and the one most 
neglected by readers and speakers, is pause. 

In the above example we must wait for each thought to 
make its impression upon the auditor before we speak the 
next. We pause in speaking our own thoughts because 
we must, in order to arrange our words ; but in reading 
aloud, and especially in reciting what has become familiar 
to us by frequent repetition, there is great danger of neg- 
lecting this, and forgetting that what is old to us, is new, 
or supposed to be new, to the audience. 

The best rule to follow is to pause for every thought. 

In the pause try to think the new thought, see the new 
picture, or feel the new emotion as if it had never been 
thought, seen, or felt before in your life. 



LOGICAL EXPRESSION 19 

Phrases are sometimes marked by a slur ^ over each 
group, sometimes by one or more vertical lines I, II, III, 
between the phrases, according to the length of the inter- 
vening pause. Where the slur is used, we indicate a very 
slight pause thus ^, showing that though there is a 
momentary cessation of sound, the thoughts are too 
closely connected to admit of a distinct separation. 

In reading aloud, consider each phrase as a temporary 
compound word, with the accent falling on the most 
important word. Speak the unimportant words clearly, 
but not overcarefully ; that is, just as you would speak the 
unaccented syllables of any word which you wish your 
hearer to understand fully, but not as if each word or syl- 
lable were as important as the others. Treat the different 
phrases in the same way, speaking the most important ones 
more slowly and impressively than the rest, and passing 
lightly over those which you regard as of little comparative 
consequence. The more earnest the speaker, the more 
frequent the pauses. In reading poetry, especially where 
rhyme and meter are prominent, it is of the greatest impor- 
tance to phrase carefully. The unpleasant effect known 
as singsong arises from neglect of pause and rhythm. 

Take a breath for each j^hrase. The more important the 
thought, the deeper and fuller should be the breath, but 
" use all gently." 

Analyze the following selections for phrasing. 

There is one broad proposition, Senators, upon which I stand. 
It is this — that an American sailor is an American citizen, and 
that no American citizen shall, with my consent, be subjected 
to the infamous punishment of the lash. Placing myself upon 
this proposition, I am prepared for any consequences. 

— Commodore Stockton, Against Whipping in the Navy. 



._>,, SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Mos1 potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 
M\ \r\\ noble and approved good masters, — 

That I have fca'en away this old man's daughter, 
ll is most true. 

I low would you phrase the following : (a) for convci 
sation, (/>) for a very earnest and impressive didactic 
expression ? 

The only method of acquiring effective elocution is by prac- 
tice, of not less than an hour a day, until the student has his 
voice and himself thoroughly subdued and trained to right 
expression. — Henry Ward Beechek. 



ILLUSTRATIVE SELECTIONS 
TRUE ELOQUENCE 

When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong 
passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther than 
it is connected with high intellectual and moral endow- 
ments. Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities 
which produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does 
not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. 
Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in 
vain. 

Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but 
they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the 
subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense 
expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after 
it, but cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes at all, like 
the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the 
bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, 
native force. 



LOGICAL EXPRESSION 21 

The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments 
and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men 
when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their 
children, and their country hang on the decision of the 
hour. Then, words have lost their power ; rhetoric is 
vain ; and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even 
genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the 
presence of higher qualities. 

Then, patriotism is eloquent ; then, self-devotion is 
eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deduc- 
tions of logic, the high purpose of firm resolve, the daunt- 
less spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, 
informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
right onward to his object, — this is eloquence ; or, rather, 
it is something greater and higher than all eloquence. It 
is action, noble, sublime, godlike action ! — Webster. 



OTHELLO S DEFENSE 

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 

My very noble and approved good masters, — 

That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 

It is most true ; true I have married her ; 

The very head and front of my offending 

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in speech, 

And little bless'd w T ith the set phrase of peace ; 

For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 

Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have used 

Their dearest action in the tented field ; 

And little of this great world can I speak, 

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; 

And therefore little shall I grace my cause, 

In speaking for myself. Yet by your gracious patience, 



j.j SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I will a round un varnishM tale deliver 

Of my whole course of love , what drugs, what charms, 

What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 

( For such proceeding I am charged withal,) 

I won his daughter. 

Her lather loved me ; oft invited me, 

Still question'd me the story of my life, 

From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, 

That 1 have pass'd. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

To the very moment that he bade me tell it : 

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, 

Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach 

Of being taken by the insolent foe, 

And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence, 

And with it all my travel's history. 

These things to hear, 

Would Desdemona seriously incline : 

But still the house affairs would draw her thence : 

Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 

Devour up my discourse. Which I observing, 

Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means 

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, 

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 

Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 

But not intentively : I did consent ; 

And often did beguile her of her tears, 

When I did speak of some distressful stroke, 

That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 

She swore, — in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange ; 






LOGICAL EXPRESSION 23 

Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 

She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wisli'd 

That Heaven had made her such a man : she thank'd me, 

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 

I should but teach him how to tell my story, 

And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake ; 

She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd ; 

And I loved her, that she did pity them. 

This only is the witchcraft I have used ; 

Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 

— Shakespeare. 

THE BALLAD OF THE OYSTERMAN 

[For avoiding singsong. Try to read as colloquially as possible.] 

It was a tall young oysterman lived by the riverside, 
His shop was just upon the bank, his boat was on the 

tide ; 
The daughter of a fisherman, that was so straight and 

slim, 
Lived over on the other bank, right opposite to him. 

It was the pensive oysterman that saw a lovely maid, 
Upon a moonlight evening, a sitting in the shade ; 
He saw her wave her handkerchief, as much as if to say, 
" I'm wide awake, young oysterman, and all the folks 
away." 

Then up arose the oysterman and to himself said he : 
" I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks 

should see ; 
I read it in the story book, that, for to kiss his dear, 
Leander swam the Hellespont, — and I will swim this 

here." 



24 school SPEAKEB 

And lie has leaped into the waves, and erossed the shin- 
ing stream, 

And he lias elainbered up the bank, all in the moonlight 
gleam ; 

O there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as 
rain, — 

But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps 
again ! 

Out spoke the ancient fisherman, — " O what was that, 

my daughter ? " 
" 'Twas nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water." 
" And what is that, pray tell me, love, that paddles off so 

fast?" 
" It's nothing but a porpoise, sir, that's been a swimming 

past." 

Out spoke the ancient fisherman, — " Now bring me my 

harpoon ! 
I'll get into my fishing boat, and fix the fellow soon." 
Down fell that pretty innocent, as falls a snow-white 

lamb, 
Her hair drooped round her pallid cheeks, like seaweed 

on a clam. 

Alas for those two loving ones ! she waked not from her 

swound, 
And he was taken with the cramp, and in the wave was 

drowned ; 
But fate has metamorphosed them, in pity of their woe ; 
And now they keep an oystershop for mermaids, down 

below. — Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



LOGICAL EXPRESSION 25 



TRUE PATRIOTISM 

Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness 
sometimes impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. 
It is the greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation 
of the want of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so 
unamiable and offensive in private life, are vices which 
partake of the character of crimes in the conduct of public 
affairs. The unfortunate victim of these passions cannot 
see beyond the little, petty, contemptible circle of his own 
personal interests. All his thoughts are withdrawn from 
his country and concentrated on his consistency, his firm- 
ness, himself. 

The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriot- 
ism, which, soaring toward heaven, rises far above all 
mean, low, or selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul- 
transporting thought of the good and the glory of one's 
country, are never felt in his impenetrable bosom. That 
patriotism Avhich, catching its inspirations from the immor- 
tal God, and leaving at an immeasurable distance below all 
lesser, groveling, personal interests and feelings, animates 
and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, 
and of death itself, — that is public virtue, that is the 
noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues. 

— Henry Clay. 



TALK TO AN ART UNION 

It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of 
the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the 
greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves 
alike ignorant what they possess. Who would not mourn 
that an ample palace, of surpassingly graceful architecture, 



26 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

fill'd with luxuries, and embellish' d with fine pictures and 

sculpture, should stand cold and still and vacant, and 
never be known or enjoy'd by its owner ? Would such a 
fact as this cause you sadness ? Then be sad. For there 
is a palace, to which the courts of the most sumptuous 
kings are but a frivolous patch, and, though it is always 
waiting for them, not one of its owners ever enters there 
with any genuine sense of its grandeur and glory. 

I think of few heroic actions, which cannot be traced to 
the artistical impulse. He who does great deeds, does 
them from his innate sensitiveness to moral beauty. Such 
men are not merely artists, they are also artistic material. 
Washington in some great crisis, Lawrence on the bloody 
deck of the Chesapeake, Mary Stuart at the block, Kossuth 
in captivity, and Mazzini in exile — all great rebels and 
innovators, exhibit the highest phases of the artist spirit. 
The painter, the sculptor, the poet, express heroic beauty 
better in description ; but the others are heroic beauty, 
the best belov'd of art. 

Talk not so much then, young artist, of the great old 
masters, who but painted and chisell'd. Study not only 
their productions. There is a still higher school for him 
who would kindle his fire with a coal from the altar of the 
loftiest and purest art. It is the school of all grand 
actions and grand virtues, of heroism, of the death of 
patriots and martyrs — of all the mighty deeds written in 
the pages of history — deeds of daring and enthusiasm, 

devotion and fortitude. — Walt Whitman. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE MELODY OP EMPHASIS 

Nothing is more wearisome to the listener than a dead 
level of monotonous speech, unless it be a meaningless 
melody. A careful observance of the following directions 
will enable the student to avoid both faults. 

The words of each phrase cluster about some one word, 
which is the key word or thought word of the group. 
This word is the one upon which both mind and voice 
dwell for the longest time. It is usually spoken with a 
stronger accent, or upon a higher or lower pitch, than the 
rest. It is called the Emphatic word. In logical expres- 
sion we shall invariably find that the emphatic word is the 
vwrd which completes the new idea. 

The degrees of emphasis are many. We commonly 
speak of the most important as Primary, the next as 
Secondary, and the others as Subordinate. 

Those passages which are distinctly unemphatic we 
speak of as Subordinate. 

In refined speech emphasis is manifested by Melody, 
produced by change of pitch and quantity, that is, greater 
or less prolongation of tone. For greater precision and 
earnestness, we often pause before the emphatic word. 
This pause, in didactic speech, is often filled in with a 
gesture of the index finger. 

In an unimportant phrase there is, strictly speaking, no 
real emphasis, for the word implies an intention to make 

27 



28 SCHOOL SPEAKEK 

an idea more or less prominent, but still there is always 
some degree of melodic change as there is always variety 
of rhythmical movement. 

In such a sentence as, " If you wish me to read this par- 
agraph, I will do so with pleasure," there may be little em- 
phasis, in which case the melodic relations of the words 
might be represented approximately: — 

a gra P h, T 

If t read^ 8 ^ wiU do Q with P leas ure. 

y ° ,l wish- t0 

or, if spoken with greater animation, the second phrase 
might be represented thus : — 

with P leas wifch 



will 



do 



so 



pleas 



I vuu ure (or), I will do so ure. 

or the emphasis might be different: — 

wish me f aft with P leas ure. 

read - n do so 

this agraph ,I Wl11 
par 

Implying that you would not do so if it were not desired. 
Notice, too, the unfinished sound of the sentence if spoken 
with the last word on a pitch above the starting point, or 
key note, implying " but otherwise it would be anything 
but a pleasure." 

Notice that each shade of emphasis shows some degree 
of contrast, either expressed or implied. 

For example: "If you (not he) wish"; "If you wish 
me (not some one else) "; " this paragraph " (not another). 

Try to see how many shades of meaning you can give 
to this and similar sentences. 



THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 29 

As we read the above examples, we shall notice, (1) that 
the accented syllable of the most important word is usually 
spoken on a higher pitch than the rest • (2) that the second- 
ary emphasis is of ten pitched a little lower than the start- 
ing note ; (3) that unimportant words are spoken more 
rapidly and carelessly; (4) that the greater the emphasis, 
the wider the range of the voice ; (5) that, at the comple- 
tion of a statement, the emphatic words often proceed 
downward. This is called Cadence, or Close, and indi- 
cates completion, or finality, of statement. 

We shall find that contrasted thoughts and pictures 
have contrast in pitch : — 

borrower 
Neither, Under ^ 

„ lender ■, 
Neither nor a De ' 

borrower 

The primary emphasis is not always on a higher note 
than the rest of the phrase, for the pitch, not only of the 
emphatic word, but of the phrase, sentence, or whole selec- 
tion, is determined to a great extent by its meaning, and 
especially by the motion of the speaker. 

Thus, unpleasant or base things have low pitch, while 
pleasant and joyful moods are usually associated with 
higher tones. Compare: "How beautiful!" "It is a 
fearful sight. " " Isn't it jolly ! " " Poor fellow ! " " How 
disgusting ! " "I hate him ! " 

The pitch of the voice is lower for serious than for triv- 
ial ideas, and in speaking very solemnly the voice, instead 
of rising, is apt to descend, not merely for the emphatic 
word, but throughout the whole phrase or sentence. 



30 school SPEAKEB 

Tlie voice, too, suggests many qualities of the objects 
we describe, not only by its pitch, but by the rate of 
movement. "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean " 
would sound very ridiculous if spoken with the pitch and 
rhythm of 

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 

Near to the nest of his little dame ; 
Over the mountain side or mead 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. 

— BliYANT. 

To say " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day " 
with brisk movement, high pitch, and joyful melody would 
be as incongruous as to say " A hurry of hoofs in the vil- 
lage street " with slow and measured expression. Note, 
however, that in excitement, though the phrases are spoken 
quickly, the pauses must not be neglected, or the effect 
will be of mere gabble. 

With regard to the melodic direction of unimportant 
words, the reader will do best to trust to instinct. If he 
will endeavor to bring out the emphatic words melodically 
as well as rhythmically, the others will take care of them- 
selves. 

Avoid emphasis by force, except where the expression 
absolutely requires it, as in loud calling, or in explosive 
anger. 

Other means of emphasis will be discussed further on. 

Rightly to be great 
Is not to stir without great argument, 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, 
When honor's at the stake. 

— Shakespeare, Hamlet. 



THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 31 

A fool always wants to shorten space and time ; a wise man 
wants to lengthen both. A fool wants to kill space and time : 
a wise man, first to gain them, then to animate them. 

— RUSKIN. 

And Concord roused, no longer tame, 
Forgot her old baptismal name, 
Made bare her patriot arm of power, 
And swelled the discord of the hour. 



— Read. 



Musick more loftly swels 
In speeches nobly placed ; 
Beauty as farre excels 
In action aptly graced. 



Sir Philip Sydney, 



From little matters let us pass to less, 
And lightly touch the mysteries of dress ; 
The outward forms the inner man reveal, — 
We guess the pulp before we cut the peel. 

I leave the broadcloth, — coats and all the rest, — 
The dangerous waistcoat, called by cockneys " vest," 
The things named " pants " in certain documents, 
A word not made for gentlemen, but " gents " ; 
One single precept might the whole condense : 
Be sure your tailor is a man of sense ; 
But add a little care, a decent pride, 
And always err upon the sober side. 

— Holmes, A Bhymed Lesson. 



SUBORDINATION 

By subordination we mean the reverse of emphasis, that 
is subduing certain passages or making them relatively 
less important than the rest. Just as the painter brings 
out certain features of his picture by painting others in 
the background, so the reader often makes a phrase em- 



32 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

phatic by slurring or subordinating the rest of the sen- 
tence. Generally, subordinate passages are spoken more 
rapidly, and on a slightly lower key, than the important 
ones. Parentheses and explanatory clauses are usually 
subordinate in reading. Everything that is supposed to 
be taken for granted, or known beforehand to both speaker 
and audience, or which requires no explanation, is glanced 
over very lightly. Colloquial speech is especially charac- 
terized by subordination, since it presupposes that both 
speaker and auditor are on familiar terms, whereas didac- 
tic speech, as we have already seen, requires more careful 
emphasis and strict attention to details. 

In the following quotation the reader should take for 
granted more or less knowledge on our part of the various 
fascinations of Florence, and try to concentrate our atten- 
tion on its associations with Galileo. Notice, too, that the 
author assumes that we know of Galileo's imprisonment : — 

There is much in every way in the city of Florence to excite 
the curiosity, kindle the imagination, and gratify the taste; 
but among all its fascinations, addressed to the sense, the 
memory, and the heart, there was none to which I more fre- 
quently gave a meditative hour, during a year's residence, than 
to the spot where Galileo Galilei sleeps beneath the marble 
floor of Santa Croce; no building on which I gazed with 
greater reverence than I did upon that modest mansion at 
Arceti : villa once, and prison, in which that venerable sage, 
by the command of the Inquisition, passed the sad closing 
years of his life. — Everett. 

SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE 
POLONIUS TO LAERTES 

Farewell. My blessing with you : 
And these few precepts in thy memory 



THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 33 

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 

Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; 

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 

Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, 

Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. 

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: 

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, 

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 

But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: 

For the apparel oft proclaims the man; 

And they in France, of the best rank and station, 

Are most select and generous, chief in that. 

Neither a borrower nor a lender be: 

For loan oft loses both itself and friend; 

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

This above all, — To thine own self be true; 

And it must follow, as the night the day, 

Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

— Shakespeare, Hamlet. 



GRADATIM 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; 
But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 

And we mount to the summit round by round. 

T count this thing to be grandly true: 
That a noble deed is a step toward God, 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 3 



34 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Lifting the soul from the common sod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 

We rise by things that are under our feet; 
By what we have mastered of good and gain, 
By the pride deposed and the passion slain, 

And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet. 

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust, 
When the morning calls us to life and light; 
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night 

Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. 

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray, 

And we think that we mount the air on wings, 
Beyond the recall of sensual things, 

While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 

Only in dreams is a ladder thrown 

From the weary earth to the sapphire walls; 
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls, 

And the sleeper awakes on his pillow of stone. 

Heaven is not reached at a single bound; 
But we build the ladder by which we rise 
Frow the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 

And we mount to the summit round by round. 

— J. G. Holland. 

AWAIT THE ISSUE 

In this world, with its wild whirling eddies and mad 
foam oceans, where men and nations perish as if without 
law, and judgment for an unjust thing is sternly delayed, 
dost thou think that there is therefore no justice? It is 
what the fool hath said in his heart. It is what the wise, 



THE MELODY OF EMPHASIS 35 

in all times, wore wise because they denied, and knew for- 
ever not to be. I tell thee again, there is nothing else but 
justice. One strong thing I find here below : the just 
thing — the true thing. 

My friend, if thou hadst all the artillery of Woolwich 
trundling at thy back in support of an unjust thing, and 
infinite bonfires visibly waiting ahead of thee, to blaze 
centuries long for thy victory on behalf of it, I would 
advise thee to call halt, to fling down thy baton, and say, 
" In Heaven's name, No ! " 

Thy "success"? Poor fellow, what will thy success 
amount to ? If the thing is unjust, thou hast not suc- 
ceeded; no, not though bonfires blazed from north to 
south, and bells rang, and editors wrote leading articles, 
and the just things lay trampled out of sight, to all mortal 
eyes an abolished and annihilated thing. 

It is the right and noble alone that will have victory 
in this struggle; the rest is wholly an obstruction, a 
postponement and fearful imperilment of the victory. 
Toward an eternal center of right and nobleness, and of 
that only, is all confusion tending. We already know 
whither it is all tending; what will have victory, what 
will have none ! The Heaviest will reach the center. 
The Heaviest has its deflections, its obstructions, nay, at 
times its reboundings; whereupon some blockhead shall 
be heard jubilating: "See, your Heaviest ascends!" but 
at all moments it is moving centerward, fast as is con- 
venient for it; sinking, sinking; and, by laws older than 
the world, old as the Maker's first plan of the world, it 
has to arrive there. 

Await the issue. In all battles, if you await the issue, 
each fighter has prospered according to his right. His 
right and his might, at the close of the account, were one 



36 school SPEAKEB 

and the same. He has fought with all his might, and in 

exact proportion to all his right lie has prevailed. His 
very death is no victory over him. He dies, indeed; but 
his work lives, very truly lives. 

A heroic Wallace, quartered on the scaffold, cannot 
hinder that his Scotland become, one day, a part of 
England; but he does hinder that it become, on tyran- 
nous, unfair terms, a part of it; commands still, as with 
a god's voice, from his old Valhalla and Temple of the 
Brave, that there be a just, real union, as of brother and 
brother, not a false and merely semblant one as of slave 
and master. If the union with England be in fact one of 
Scotland's chief blessings, we thank Wallace withal that 
it was not the chief curse. Scotland is not Ireland; no, 
because brave men rose there and said, " Behold, ye must 
not tread us down like slaves ; and ye shall not, and 
cannot ! " 

Eight on, thou brave true heart, and falter not, through 
dark fortune and through bright. The cause thou tightest 
for, so far as it is true, no further, yet precisely so far, is 
very sure of victory. The falsehood alone of it will be 
conquered, will be abolished, as it ought to be: but the 
truth of it is part of Nature's own laws, cooperates with 
the world's eternal tendencies, and cannot be conquered. 

— Carlyle. 



CHAPTER V 

INFLECTION 

If we listen attentively to the speech of those about 
us, we shall notice not only that the words vary in time 
and pitch, but also that no one sound remains on quite the 
same note for any appreciable length of time. This is 
especially noticeable in the emphatic words, where some- 
times Ave hear a very long sweep of the voice up or down. 

This change of pitch on a syllable is called Inflection 
or Slide, in distinction from Skips of the voice, as in 
exclamations (" Oh, no ! ") or from the melody of empha- 
sis, already described. 

Inflections are usually designated as: Falling (\), 
Rising (/), Monotone ( — ), Circumflex or Compound 

(a V, <b cP). 

The Falling slide is positive, certain, and shows com- 
pleteness: " Yes, certainly." 

The Rising slide is characteristic of all dependent, uncei- 

tain, incomplete moods of mind. For instance, in asking 

a simple question like, "Will you go?" the inflection and 

go ? " 
melody both rise, "Will ^ ou leaving, as it were, 

the thought in the air, to be completed by the person 

addressed, who, if he answers positively, will speak with 

a falling tendency, completing the little speech melody by 

bringing his voice back to the keynote, for example : — 

r p-O?" "Cerx 

«Wi l n ly." 

37 



38 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

But rhetorical questions generally have falling inflec- 
tion : — 

while very serious questions with surprise usually have 
falling melody with rising inflections : — 



And do you now cull out a 



• day 
hoi 1 



The Monotone may be best described as the absence of 
definite inflection, rather than as an absolutely unvarying 
pitch. It is heard in the prolonged tones of calling, as, 
" Hello-o-o-o ! " and in emotions which check the normal 
tendencies of inflection, as awe, solemnity, or suspense. 
An habitual monotone in reading betrays a lack of 
thought, or inability to make careful distinctions between 
ideas. 

There was silence, and I heard a voice saying, 
" Shall mortal man be more just than God ? 
Shall a man be more pure than his Maker ? " 

Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. 
Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst 
formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to ever- 
lasting, thou art God. — David. 



1 &J 



Hush ! — Hark ! Did stealing steps go by ? 

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, 

Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, 

And for the day, confined to fast in fires, 

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 

Are burnt and purged away. 

— Shakespeare, Hamlet. 



INFLECTION 39 



THE BEND 

Positive statements often depend on other statements, 
expressed or understood, and in these, while the general 
tendency may be downward, there is always a suspension, 
sometimes a slight upward turn at the end, showing that 
the thought is not absolutely complete, thus : — 



r t^ wish 

l y, (if 



%i' ..you ™* it). 



This slight turn or suspense of the falling inflection is 
commonly known as the Bend. It is heard in all paren- 
thetical clauses, in so-called compellatives, like, " Mr. 
President," " John "; for example : — 

" Conscript Fathers : I do not rise to waste the night in words." 

It also occurs in expressions like, " Said he," preceding 
a quoted speech ; for example : — 

And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying, " Blessed are 
the pure in heart." 

Near yonder copse where once the garden smiled, 
And still where many a garden flower grows wild, 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 

Here we have no completed thought until the last line, 
though the other statements are positive enough to be char- 
acterized by falling inflections; so we hear just enough of 
the bend at the end of each subordinate thought to keep 
us in suspense or direct our attention toward something 
yet to come. 



40 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

It makes no difference whether the dependent clause 
precedes or follows the principal one, the bend is heard 
in either case. In fact, wherever a positive thought is 
not important enough to require special emphasis, the 
falling inflection is left more or less incomplete. The 
bend should not be confounded with the direct rising 
inflection. It is one of the most difficult yet one of the 
most important elements in natural speech. 

Inflection shows not only the relation of thoughts to 
one another, but the relation of the one who speaks to the 
person addressed. Thus, " Sit down " (spoken with a 
direct falling inflection) is a command. " Sit down " 
(with a bend) is deferential — says, "if you please." 
-" Sit down " (direct rising inflection) is equivalent to 
"Will you sit down?" and leaves the matter entirely to 
the person to whom we speak. 

MINOR INFLECTION 

Minor inflections are heard in expressions of weakness, 
pity, and the like. The minor inflection is, as its name 
implies, a shortened, form of the ordinary or Major inflec- 
tion. It is usually overdone, resulting in a disagreeable 
whining tone. The true minor, however, as heard in 
expressions of deep but controlled sadness, is exceedingly 
moving. 

An habitual minor inflection usually indicates physical 
or mental weakness, or both. In pathetic passages, where 
the minor would be appropriate, it is most effective if 
used only on the emphatic word. Read as if the emotion 
checked the normal utterance, not as if trying to empha- 
size the feeling. The best method is to feel as sad as 
possible and then try to read with simple major inflection. 



INFLECTION 41 

BREAK, BREAK, BREAK 

Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me. 

Oh, well for the fisherman's boy, 

That he shouts with his sister at play! 

Oh, well for the sailor lad, 

That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 

And the stately ships go on 

To their haven under the hill; 
But oh, for the touch of the vanished hand, 

And the sound of a voice that is still ! 

Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 

But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

— Tennyson. 

EXERCISE 

FOR RANGE IN INFLECTION 

Take a full breath, and, starting from a low pitch, 
say quite loudly, "Ah?" with as long a slide as possible, 
expanding the chest as the voice rises. Repeat five times. 
Use also a, e, 0, oo, au, "one," "two," "three," etc., up to 
ten. In the same way practice extreme falling slides from 
a high pitch. Practice slowly and steadily, occasionally 
quickly. Later, use circumflexes and monotones. 

A combination of rising and falling slides is called the 
Circumflex. The circumflex inflection has a double mean- 
ing. It is heard in irony, sarcasm, and less obviously in 



42 school SPEAKER 

raillery. In the following example (from llahbt hen Kar- 
shook's Wisdom), notiee not only the effect of the circum- 
flex, but also the value of inflection as a means of 
emphasizing distinctions : — 

Quoth a young Sadducee, — 

" Reader of many rolls, 
Is it so certain we 

Have, as they tell us, souls ? " 
" Son, there is no reply ! " 

The Rabbi bit his beard : 

" Certain, a soul have / — 

We may have none," he sneered. 

Thus Karshook, the Hiram's-Hammer, 
The Right-Hand Temple column, 

Taught babes in grace their grammar, 
And struck the simple, solemn. 

— Browning. 

There are many shades of inflective modulation. All 
shades of what is called Elliptical meaning are expressed 
by varying forms of the slide. In didactic speech, the 
inflections are very direct and precise, the chief object 
being to make everything clear and avoid any possibility 
of misunderstanding. In the freer and more familiar 
manner of colloquial speech there is no attempt at pre- 
cision, and we notice a much wider range of melody and 
more varied rhythm, a more frequent use of the bend, 
with a general tendency toward the rising inflection. 
Again, in persuasive or affectionate speech of any kind, the 
inflection is characterized by a slight curve, or caressing 
manner, as in, "Good doggie," or, " Isn't it beautiful?" 

We have now studied the essentials of naturalness. If 
your reading is monotonous, ask yourself whether pause, 
rhythm, melody, or inflection is lacking. If your reading 



INFLECTION 43 

sounds stilted or artificial, ask yourself which of these is 
overdone or out of place. 

An excellent way of attaining naturalness in difficult 
passages is to first express the thought in your own words 
and then read the passage, imitating your own expression. 
Transposition of the words is also useful, especially in 
verse, for example : — 

" Brave the Captain was " = " The Captain was brave." 



SELECTIONS FOR PRACTICE 

Notice the necessity for a different manner of inflect- 
ing each of the four following examples. To read the 
first too didactically would seem unsympathetic. To 
read the second other than with precision and directness 
would distract the hearer's attention. 

The selection from The Deserted Village with its 
playful familiarity, must have the greatest freedom of 
melody and inflection ; while Tennyson's exquisite little 
lullaby requires a soothing, tender modulation quite un- 
like anything heard in the others. 

EDUCATION 

No country, epoch, or race has a monopoly upon knowl- 
edge. Some have easier, but not necessarily better oppor- 
tunities for self-development. What a few can obtain 
free most have to pay for, perhaps by hard, physical labor, 
mental struggle, and self-denial. But in this great coun- 
try all can have the opportunity for bettering themselves, 
provided they exercise intelligence and perseverance and 
their motives and conduct are worthy. Nowhere are 
such facilities for universal education found as in the 



44 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

United States. They are accessible to every boy and 
girl, white or black. 

Intelligence and industry are the best possessions which 
any man can have, and every man can have them. No- 
body can give them to him or take them from him. He 
cannot acquire them by inheritance ; he cannot buy them, 
or beg them, or borrow them. They belong to the indi- 
vidual, and are his unquestioned property. He alone can 
part with them. They are a good thing to have and to 
keep. They make happy homes ; they achieve success in 
every walk of life ; they have won the greatest triumphs 
of mankind. No man who has them ever gets into the 
Police Court or before the Grand Jury, or in the work- 
house, or the chain gang. They give one moral and ma- 
terial power. They will bring you a comfortable living, 
make you respect yourselves and command the respect of 
your fellows. They are indispensable to success. They 
are invincible. The merchant requires the clerk whom 
he employs to have them. The railroad corporation in- 
quires whether the man seeking employment possesses 
them. Every avenue of human endeavor welcomes them. 
They are the only keys to open, with certainty, the door 
of opportunity to struggling manhood. Employment 
waits on them ; capital requires them ; citizenship is not 
good without them. If you don't already have them, get 

them. —William McKinley. 

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 

A perfect thought will always clothe itself in appropriate 
language ; and when people suppose that they are in want 
of words to express themselves, they are really in want of 
thought — they have only got hold of a part of a thought 



INFLECTION 45 

instead of the complete thought, and are in difficulty about 
the clothing of an unformed thing. De Retz says that 
strong emotions find their utterances in monosyllables, 
and the language of the poor, in grief, is often of an ear- 
nestness and simplicity rising to eloquence. " Out of the 
fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh." 

THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 

With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, 

There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, 

The village master taught his little school : 

A man severe he Avas, and stern to view : 

I knew him well, and every truant knew ; 

Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace 

The day's disasters in his morning face ; 

Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee 

At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 

Full well the busy whisper, circling round, 

Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. 

Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, 

The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 

The village all declared how much he knew — 

'Twas certain he could write and cipher too ; 

Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 

And e'en the story ran that he could gauge. 

In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, 

For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; 

While words of learned length and thundering sou mi 

Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ; 

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 

That one small head could carry all he knew. 

— Goldsmith. 



46 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



SWEET AND LOW 



Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western sea ! 
Over the rolling waters go, 
Come from the dying moon, and blow, 

Blow him again to me ; 
While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 

Father will come to thee soon ; 
Rest, rest, on mother's breast, 

Father will come to thee soon ; 
Father will come to his babe in the nest, 
Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon ; 
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. 

— Tennyson. 

BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CAESAR 

Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for my 
cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for 
mine honor ; and have respect to mine honor, that you may 
believe. Censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your 
senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in 
this assembly — any dear friend of Caesar's, — to him I 
say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was not less than his. If, 
then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, 
this is my answer : Not that I loved Caesar less, but 
that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Ciesar were 
living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to 



INFLECTION 47 

live all freemen ? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; 
as lie was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I 
honor him ; but as lie was ambitious, I slew him. There 
are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his 
valor, and death for his ambition. 

Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If 
any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so 
rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for 
him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not 
love his country ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. 
I pause for a reply. 

None? Then none have I offended. I have done no 
more to Cassar than you shall do to Brutus-. The ques- 
tion of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not 
extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offenses en- 
forced, for which he suffered death. 

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, 
though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the 
benefit of his dying — a place in the commonwealth — as 
which of you shall not ? With this I depart : That, as I 
slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same 
dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to 
need my death. — Shakespeare, Julius Ccesar. 

CHARLES THE FIRST 

[Study in subordination both melodic and inflective, and in circumflexes.] 

The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other 
malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is pro- 
duced, generally decline all controversy about the facts, 
and content themselves with calling testimony to charac- 
ter. He had so many private virtues ! And had James 
the Second no private virtues ? Was Oliver Cromwell, 



48 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

his bitterest enemies themselves being judges, destitute of 
private virtues ? 

And what, after all, are the virtues ascribed to Charles ? 
A religious zeal, not more sincere than that of his son, 
and fully as weak and narrow-minded, and a few of the 
ordinary household decencies which half the tombstones 
in England claim for those who lie beneath them. A good 
father! A good husband! Ample apologies indeed for 
fifteen years of persecution, tyranny, and falsehood ! 

We charge him with having broken his coronation 
oath ; and we are told that he kept his marriage vow ! 
We accuse him of having given up his people to the mer- 
ciless inflictions of the most hot-headed and hard-hearted 
of prelates ; and the defense is, that he took his little son 
on his knee and kissed him ! We censure him for having 
violated the articles of the Petition of Right, after having, 
for good and valuable consideration, promised to observe 
them; and we are informed that he was accustomed to 
hear prayers at six o'clock in the morning ! It is to such 
considerations as these, together with his Vandyke dress, his 
handsome face, and his peaked beard, that he owes, we verily 
believe, most of his popularity with the present generation. 

For ourselves, we own that we do not understand the 
common phrase, a good man, but a bad king. We can as 
easily conceive a good man and an unnatural father, or a 
good man and a treacherous friend. We cannot, in esti- 
mating the character of an individual, leave out of our 
consideration his conduct in the most important of all 
human relations ; and if in that relation we find him to 
have been selfish, cruel, and deceitful, we shall take the 
liberty to call him a bad man, in spite of all his temper- 
ance at table, and all his regularity at chapel. 

— Macaulay. 



INFLECTION 49 

A PSALM OF LIFE 

[Persuasive inflections.] 

Tell me not in mournful numbers, 

Life is but an empty dream ! 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 

And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal : 
" Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way, 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act ! — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'er head. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 4 



50 school SPEAKER 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. 

— Longfellow. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE BYE AND FACE IN READING 

Nothing is more important in speaking than to look 
your auditors straight in the eye. He who can do this 
has won half the battle of confidence already. Awkward- 
ness and harsh tones are forgiven if we feel that the 
speaker is in earnest, and nothing so assists in impressing 
others with our sincerity as a glance that never wavers. 
In reading, strive to look at the audience as frequently as 
possible, especially in the emphatic passages. 

The eye should not be fixed on any particular individual 
for any length of time, but on the other hand, it should 
not wander aimlessly or vacantly. The best plan is to 
speak one phrase to one person, the next phrase to an- 
other, and so on. Speak for the most part to those 
farthest away from you. This helps to give the voice 
what is called " carrying power," because Ave instinctively 
suit the range of the voice to those whom we address. 
In earnest address like the following examples, which, 
by the way, require very careful phrasing and emphasis, 
watch your audience constantly at each pause to see if 
they understand your meaning, and do not go on to the 
succeeding phrase until you are certain that what you 
have said is thoroughly comprehended. But be sure, first 
of all, that you yourself understand them. 

51 



52 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 



GREAT ART 

Remember always, you have two characters in which all 
greatness of art consists : First, the earnest and intense 
seizing of natural facts ; then the ordering those facts by 
strength of human intellect, so as to make them, for all 
who look upon them, to the utmost serviceable, memora- 
ble, and beautiful. And thus great art is nothing else 
than the type of strong and noble life ; for, as the ignoble 
person, in his dealings with all that occurs in the world 
about him, first sees nothing clearly, — looks nothing 
fairly in the face, and then allows himself to be swept 
away by the trampling torrent, and unescapable force, of 
the things that he would not foresee, and could not under- 
stand : so the noble person, looking the facts of the 
world full in the face, and fathoming them with deep 
faculty, then deals with them in unalarmed intelligence 
and unhurried strength, and becomes, with his human in- 
tellect and will, no unconscious nor insignificant agent, in 
consummating their good, and restraining their evil. 

— Ruskin. 

ASPECTA MEDUSA 

Andromeda, by Perseus saved and wed, 
Hankered each day to see the Gorgon's head : 
Till o'er a fount he held it, bade her lean, 
And mirrored in the wave was safely seen 
That death she lived by. 

Let not thine eyes know 
Any forbidden thing itself, although 
It once should save as well as kill : but be 
Its shadow upon life enough for thee. 

— D. G. Rossetti. 



THE EYE AND FACE IN READING 53 



FACIAL EXPRESSION 

A mobile and expressive face is also highly important. 
Genuine facial expression can be attained only by asso- 
ciating feeling with what we do. Nevertheless practice 
is essential here, as in everything else, if only to acquire 
freedom of expression. In expressing pleasant moods, 
strive to look pleasant, and in harsher feelings, do not be 
afraid to frown. There is a sort of dry humor which is 
best expressed with a perfectly serious face, because the 
fun lies in the contradiction between the words and the 
manner, but in general a wooden immobility of counte- 
nance is anything but attractive to the audience. • 

The secret of facial expression is in the eye. If it is 
illumined with pleasure, darkened in harsh moods, closed 
in slyness, or opened in astonishment and fear, the rest 
of the face will sympathize. If the eye is inexpressive, 
all attempts at facial expression will result in mere 
distortion. 

Give us, O give us, the man who sings at his work ! He 
will do more in the same time, — he will do it better, — he 
will persevere longer. One is scarcely sensible of fatigue 
whilst he marches to music. The very stars are said to make 
harmony as they revolve in their spheres. Wondrous is the 
strength of cheerfulness, altogether past calculation its powers 
of endurance. Efforts, to be permanently useful, must be uni- 
formly joyous, a spirit all sunshine, graceful from very glad- 
ness, beautiful because bright. 

— Carlyle. 

What ho, my jovial mates ! come on ! we'll frolic it 
Like fairies frisking in the merry moonshine ! 

— Scott. 



54 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

How like a fawning publican he looks! 

I hate him, for he is a Christian ! 

If I can catch him once upon the hip 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

Cursed be my tribe 
If I forgive him ! 

— Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice. 

The one with yawning made reply : 

" What have we seen ? — Not much have I ! 

Trees, meadows, mountains, groves and streams, 

Blue sky and clouds and sunny gleams." 

The other, smiling, said the same ; 

But with face transfigured and eye of flame : 

" Trees, meadows, mountains, groves, and streams ! 

Blue sky and clouds and sunny gleams ! " 

— Brooks. 

But the eye does not always seek the audience. Often 
as in apostrophe, we are supposed to be addressing some 
one or something not actually present but seen, as Hamlet 
said of his dead father, in the "mind's eye." 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 

In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause 

On thy bald awful head, sovereign Blanc ! 

The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 

Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form, 

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 

How silently ! 

Around thee, and above, 
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 
An ebon mass ; methinks thou piercest it 
As with a wedge. But when I look again 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity. 

— Coleridge. 



THE EYE AND FACE IN READING 55 

In describing objects or events which are supposed to 
be going on about us, we naturally glance at them and 
then back to our audience, just as if the things spoken of 
were actually present. For instance in the above selec- 
tion, we cannot be supposed to know that the Arve and 
Arveiron rave at the base of the mountain unless we 
look at them, nor that the air is deep and black unless we 
see it. Be careful, however, in reading such passages to 
look before you speak, and not to talk to the things you are 
supposed to be talking about, in other words, look back 
to your audience when you address them. 

In what is called dramatic narration, there are often 
passages in which the reader impersonates, that is, speaks 
as if he were one of the characters he has described. In 
such cases one does not address his audience directly, but 
for the time being, becomes an actor, speaks a little to one 
side or the other, turning the body if necessary. In such 
reading one should not only look but endeavor to feel like 
the character he portrays. Be careful, in these examples, 
not to mix narration and impersonation : — 

{To audience) — Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: 
{To Lady Clare) — "0 Lady Clare, you shame your worth ! 
Why come you drest like a village maid, 
That are the flower of the earth ? " 

— Tennyson. 

{To audience) — Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely 

said: 
{To the right) — " Open ; 'tis I, the king ! Art thou afraid ? " 
{To audience) — The frightened sexton, muttering with a curse, 
{To left) — "This is some drunken vagabond, or worse ! " 

(To audience) — Turned the great key and flung the portal wide. 

r— Longfellow. 



56 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

When the characters speak alternately it is well to 
make one look to the right, and the other to the left, as 
it' opposite to each other. 

Polonius. (To Hamlet) my Lord, the queen would speak 
with you, and presently. 

Hamlet. Do you see that cloud, that's almost in shape like 
a camel ? (Looking from Polonius to the cloud and then back 
again.) 

Pol. (Looking fixedly at the cloud.) By the mass, and 'tis 
like a camel indeed. 

Ham. (As before.) Methinks it is like a weasel. 

Pol. (Pretending to examine the cloud, critically.) It is backed 
like a weasel. (Looking from Hamlet to the cloud.) 

Ham. Or like a whale ? 

Pol. Very like a whale. 

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and by (aside, 
that is, turning away from Polonius and speaking as if to the 
audience, or to an imaginary person at the other side). They fool 
me to the top of my bent. (To Pol.) I will come by and by. 



ILLUSTRATIVE SELECTIONS 
INVOCATION FROM PARADISE LOST 

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the world, and all our woe, 
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man 
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, 
Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top 
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, 
In the beginning how the heavens and earth 
Rose out of chaos : or, if Sion hill 



THE EYE AND FACE IN READING 57 

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed 
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song, 
That with no middle flight intends to soar 
Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues 
Things unat tempted yet in prose or rhyme. 
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples the upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me, for thou know'st ; thou from the first 
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread, 
Dovelike, sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, 
And madest it pregnant: what in me is dark, 
Illumine ; what is low, raise and support ; 
That to the height of this great argument 
I may assert eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men. 

— Milton. 

LADY CLARE 

Tennyson 

[Notice the varied feelings, — love, cunning, surprise, secrecy, reproach, 
indignation, sly remonstrance, noble pride, suffering, bewilderment, humility, 
and pleasure, — and try to express them in face as well as voice.] 

It was the time when lilies blow, 
And clouds are highest up in air, 

Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe 
To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 

I trow they did not part in scorn : 
Lovers long betrothed were they : 

They two shall wed the morrow morn ; 
God's blessing on the day ! 






58 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" He does not love me for my birth, 
Nor for my lands so broad and fair ; 

He loves me for my own true worth, 
And that is well," said Lady Clare. 

In there came old Alice the nurse, 

Said, " Who was this that went from thee? " 

" It was my cousin," said Lady Clare ; 
" To-morrow he weds with me." 

" O God be thanked ! " said Alice the nurse, 
" That all comes round so just and fair : 

Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, 
And you are not the Lady Clare." 

" Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse? " 
Said Lady Clare, u that ye speak so wild ? " 

" As God's above," said Alice the nurse, 
" I speak the truth : you are my child. 

" The old earl's daughter died at my breast : 
I speak the truth as I live by bread ! 

I buried her like my own sweet child, 
And put my child in her stead." 

" Falsely, falsely have ye done, 

O mother," she said, " if this be true, 

To keep the best man under the sun 
So many years from his due." 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 
" But keep the secret for your life, 

And all you have will be Lord Ronald's 
.When you are man and wife." 



THE EYE AND FACE IN READING 59 

" If I'm a beggar born," she said, 

" I will speak out, for I dare not lie : 

Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold, 
And fling the diamond necklace by." 

" Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 

"But keep the secret all ye can." 
She said, " Not so : but I will know, 

If there be any faith in man." 

" Nay now, what faith ? " said Alice the nurse ; 

"The man will cleave unto his right." 
" And he shall have it," the lady replied, 

"Though I should die to-night." 

" Yet give one kiss to your mother dear ! 

Alas, my child, I sinned for thee." 
" O mother, mother, mother ! " she said, 

" So strange it seems to me. 

" Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, 

My mother dear, if this be so ; 
And lay your hand upon my head, 

And bless me, mother, ere I go." 

She clad herself in a russet gown — 

She was no longer Lady Clare : 
She went by dale, and she went by down, 

With a single rose in her hair. 

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought 

Leapt up from where she lay, 
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, 

And followed her all the way. 



60 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: 
" O Lady Clare, you shame your worth ! 

Why come you drest like a village maid, 
That are the flower of the earth ? " 

" If I come drest like a village maid, 

I am but as my fortunes are : 
I am a beggar born," she said, 

" And not the Lady Clare." 

" Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
" For I am yours in word and deed. 

Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
" Your riddle is hard to read." 

Oh, and proudly stood she up ! 

Her heart within her did not fail : 
She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes, 

And told him all her nurse's tale. 

He laughed the laugh of merry scorn : 

He turned and kissed her where she stood 

" If you are not the heiress born, 

And I," said he, "the next in blood — 

" If you are not the heiress born, 
And I," said he, " the lawful heir, 

We two shall wed to-morrow morn, 
And you shall still be Lady Clare." 

HOHENLINDEN 

[Look back and forth from the pictures to your audience.] 

On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; 



THE EYE AND FACE IN HEADING 61 

And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat, at dead of night. 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each horseman drew his battle blade, 
And furious every charger neighed 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
Then rushed the steed to battle driven, 
And louder than the bolts of heaven 
Far flashed the red artillery. 

But redder yet that light shall glow 
On Linden's hills of stained snow, 
And bloodier yet the torrent flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

'Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 

The cOmbat deepens. On, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

Few, few shall part where many meet ! 

The snow shall be their winding sheet, 

And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulcher. — Thomas Campbell. 



62 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



POOR LITTLE JOE 

[A very interesting study in pause aud facial expression. Imagine that the 
sick hoy is before you. Watch his face and take time to hear his replies just 
as if he were really present. The questions in italics are supposed to have 
been spoken by Joe, but are repeated aloud by you, as is often the case. This 
calls for careful inflection.] 

Prop yer eyes wide open, Joey, 

Fur I've brought you sumpin' great. 
Apples ? No, a heap sight better ! 

Don't you take no int'rest? Wait ! 
Flowers, Joe — I know'd you like 'em — 

Ain't them scrumptious ? A in't them high ? 
Tears, my boy ? Wot's them fur, Joey ? 

There — poor little Joe ! — don't cry ! 

I was skippin' past a winder, 

Where a bang-up lady sot, 
All amongst a lot of bushes — 

Each one climbing from a pot ; 
Every bush had flowers on it — 

Pretty ? Mebbe not ! Oh, no ! 
Wish you could a seen 'em growin', 

It was sich a stunnin' show. 

Well, I thought of you, poor feller, 

Lyin' here so sick and weak, 
Never knowin' any comfort, 

And I puts on lots o' cheek. 
" Missus," says I, " if you please, mum, 

Could I ax you for a rose ? 
For my little brother, missus — 

Never seed one, I suppose." 



THE EYE AND FACE IN READING 63 

Then I told her all about you — 

How I bringecl you up, poor Joe ! 
(Lackin' women folks to do it.) 

Sich a' imp you was, you know — 
Till yer got that awful tumble, 

Jist as I had broke yer in 
(Hard work, too) to earn yer livin' 

Blackin' boots for honest tin. 

How that tumble crippled of you, 

So's you couldn't hyper much — 
Joe, it hurted when I seen you 

Fur the first time with yer crutch. 
" But," I says, " he's laid up now, mum, 

'Pears to weaken every day " ; 
Joe, she up and went to cuttin' — 

That's the how of this bokay. 

Say ! It seems to me, ole feller, 

You is quite yerself to-night ; 
Kind o' chirk — it's been a f ortnit 

Sence yer eyes has been so bright. 
Better f Well, I'm glad to hear it ! 

Yes, they're mighty pretty, Joe. 
Smellirt of 'era's made you happy ? 

Well, I thought it would, you know ! 

Never see the country, did you ? 

Flowers growin' everywhere ! 
Some time when you're better, Joey, 

Mebbe I kin take you there. 
Flowers in heaven? 'M — I s'pose so ; 

Dunno much about it, though ; 
Ain't as fly as wot I might be 

On them topics, little Joe. 



64 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

But I've heard it hinted somewheres 

That in heaven's golden gates 
Things is everlastin' cheerful — 

B'lieve that's wot the Bible states. 
Likewise, there folks don't git hungry ; 

So good people, when they dies, 
Finds themselves well fixed forever — 

Joe, my boy, wot ails yer eyes ? 

Thought they looked a little sing'ler. 

Oh, no ! Don't you have no fear ; 
Heaven was made fur sich as you is — 

Joe, wot makes you look so queer ? 
Here — wake up ! Oh, don't look that way ! 

Joe ! My boy ! Hold up yer head ! 
Here's yer flowers — you dropped 'em, Joey ! 

Oh, my God, can Joe be dead? 

— Peleg Arkwright. 



CHAPTER VII 

BREATHING 

Every time we think a new thought, we breathe. The 
more profound or earnest the thought, the deeper and 
fuller the breath. 

Whenever we wish to express our thoughts with more 
than ordinary energy, we prepare for the expression by 
taking a full breath, just as we do when gathering up our 
energies for any form of physical exertion. For example : 
try to move some heavy object and notice how you brace 
at the waist for the effort. Then shout loudly, " Hello 
there ! " and notice how very similar the action at the 
waist is. 

Untrained speakers waste breath by contracting the 
chest, that is, thrusting, or sometimes almost coughing, 
out the breath when speaking loudly. This is incorrect. 
If you will now take a full breath and at the moment of 
shouting expand the chest, you will find that the tone is 
clearer and more musical, while there is no sense of 
fatigue following the effort unless it is too often repeated. 
Forcible expulsion of breath while speaking produces 
huskiness. 

EXERCISE I 

With the throat open, and jaw hanging loosely : 
(1) Take a full breath, as if inhaling the perfume of a 
flower. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 5 65 



66 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

(2) Call rather forcibly, Ha ! sustaining the breath 
during the call. 

(3) The moment the sound ceases, let the chest relax 
naturally. 

Repeat ten times, taking plenty of time for each repeti- 
tion. Use also, Ho! He! (e in pet) Hey? Hello! 
Hurrah ! Charge ! Fire ! 

Practice with exactly the same action, but softly, as if 
echoing the former sounds. 

EXERCISE II 

In the same manner count " one! two ! three ! " etc., up 
to ten or twenty, taking a new breath for each number, 
letting the breath go after each number, and relaxing the 
jaw completely each time. The more promptly and ac- 
curately the various consonants are spoken, the greater 
the benefit you will derive from this exercise. 

Practice with various intonations; that is, calling, ques- 
tioning, commanding, with surprise, joy, anger, etc. 
Try to " place " the vowels in the roof of the mouth ; that 
is, avoid all contraction at the throat, and imagine that 
the hard palate does all the work of voice production. 

EXERCISE III 

Inhaling as before, sustain in succession the vowels 

d-d-e-6-od-q (as in all), holding each as long as possible. 

Count up to twenty, thirty, or more, on a single breath. 



EXPRESSIVE BREATHING 

The manner in which we inhale or exhale varies with 
the emotion. Harsh, antagonistic feelings are accom- 
panied with hard, tense action of all the muscles, while 



BREATHING 67 

tender, loving feelings expand the lungs gently. Fear 
contracts the body, as do all mean feelings. Grief and 
Aveakness relax the muscles so that we cannot sustain the 
breath, as we do under normal conditions. 1 

We may sum up by saying that noble emotions expand 
the chest; ignoble, contract it : energy uplifts, weakness 
depresses. Lack of control or unrestrained excitement 
is often shown by more or less of the aspirate or breathy 
quality in the voice. 

In the following brief examples you will find that at- 
tention to the above principles will aid you in giving the 
true expression to what you read; for with the trained 
reader or speaker the effect of attitude and bodily action 
upon his feelings is almost as powerful as that of his feel- 
ings upon his body. 

In these, as well as in the selections which follow, give 
especial attention to the breath, thinking the thought and 
feeling the emotion required, as you inhale, so that you 
actually breathe in the thought or feeling you are about to 
express. 

EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN DEEP, FULL BREATHING 

" Halt ! " The dust-brown ranks stood fast. 
" Fire ! " Out blazed the rifle blast. 

QUITE POSSIBLE 

The commandant stands shouting " dress ! " 

The bugler winds his noisy din ; 
Our sergeant, opening wide his mouth, 

Shouts, " Company — fall in ! " 

— From Cap and Gown. 

1 Under great excitement we take in more than our habitual supply of 
breath, and it escapes more readily. 



68 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Sir, an attempt has been made to alarm the committee by 
the dangers to our commerce in the Mediterranean; and a 
wretched invoice of figs and opium has been spread before us 
to repress our sensibilities and to eradicate our humanity. 
Ah ! sir, " what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole 
world, and lose his own soul ? " — or what shall it avail a 
nation to save the whole of a miserable trade, and lose its 
liberties? — Henky Clay. 



Shall an American citizen be scourged ? Forbid it, Heaven ! 
Humanity forbid it ! For myself, I would rather see the navy 
abolished, and the Stars and Stripes buried, with their glory, 
in the depths of the ocean, than that those who won for it all 
its renown should be subjected to a punishment so brutal, to 
an ignominy so undeserved. — Commodore Stockton. 



UNION AND LIBERTY 

[Study for breath control and full tone.] 

Flag of the heroes who left us their glory, 

Borne through their battlefields' thunder and flame, 
Blazoned in song and illumined in story, 
Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame ! 

Up with our banner bright, 

Sprinkled with starry light, 
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, 

While through the sounding sky 

Loud rings the Nation's cry — 
Union and Liberty ! One evermore ! 

Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation, 
Pride of her children, and honored afar, 

Let the wide beams of thy full constellation 
Scatter each cloud that would darken a star ! 



BREATHING 69 

Empire unsceptered ! what foe shall assail thee, 

Bearing the standard of Liberty's van ? 
Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee, 

Striving with men for the birthright of man ! 

Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted, 

Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw, 
Then* with the arms to thy millions united, 

Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law ! 

Lord of the Universe ! shield us and guide us, 

Trusting Thee always, through shadow and sun ! 
Thou hast united us, who shall divide us ? 
Keep us, O keep us the man} 7 in one S 
Up with our banner bright, 
Sprinkled with starry light, 
Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, 
While through the sounding sky 
Loud rings the Nation's cry — 
Union and Liberty ! One evermore ! 

— Holmes. 



CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward. 
All in the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 
" Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
Charge for the guns ! " he said: 
Into the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 



70 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" Forward, the Light Brigade I " 
Was there a man dismayed ? 
Not though the soldiers knew 

Some one had blundered ! 
Theirs not to make reply ; 
Theirs not to reason why ; 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 



Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well ; 
Into the jaws of death, 
Into the mouth of hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 



Flashed all their sabers bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sabering the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered ! 
Plunged in the battery smoke, 
Right through the line they broke: 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the saber stroke, 

Shattered and sundered. 
Then they rode back ; but not — 

Not the six hundred. 



BREATHING 71 



Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and. hero fell, 
They that had fought so well 
Came through the jaws of death 
Back from the mouth of hell, 
All that was left of them — 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 
Oh, the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wondered. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade — 

Noble six hundred ! 



— Tennyson. 



THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS 

One more unfortunate, 
Weary of breath, 
Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death ! 



Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care ! 
Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair ! 



72 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Look at her garments 
Clinging like cerements, 
Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing ; 
Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loathing ! 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny, 
Rash and undutif ul ; 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on her 
Only the beautiful. 

Loop up her tresses 
Escaped from the comb, — 
Her fair auburn tresses, — 
Whilst wonderment guesses 
Where was her home? 

Who was her father ? 

Who was her mother? 

Had she a sister ? 

Had she a brother ? 

Or was there a dearer one 

Still, and a nearer one 

Yet, than all other? 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 
Under the sun ! 
Oh, it was pitiful ! 
Near a whole city full, 
Home she had none. 



BREATHING 73 

The bleak wind of March 
Made her tremble and shiver ; 
But not the dark arch, 
Or the black flowing river ; 
Mad from life's history, 
Glad to death's mystery, 
Swift to be hurled — 
Anywhere, anywhere 
Out of the world ! 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care ! 
Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair ! 

Ere her limbs, frigidly, 
Stiffen too rigidly, 
Decently, kindly, 
Smooth and compose them ; 
And her eyes, close them, 
Staring so blindly ! 
Dreadfully staring 
Through muddy impurity, 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 
Fixed on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 
Spurred by contumely, 
Cold inhumanity, 
Burning insanity, 
Into her rest ! 
Cross her hands humbly, 
As if praying dumbly, 
Over her breast ! 



74 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Owning her weakness, 
Her evil behavior, 
And leaving, with meekness. 
Her sins to her Savior ! 

— Thomas Hood (abridged). 

keenan's charge 

[Chancellors ville, May, 1863.] 

The sun had set ; 

The leaves with dew were wet ; 

Down fell a bloody dusk 
On the woods, that second of May, 
Where Stonewall's corps, like a beast of prey, 

Tore through, with angry tusk. 

" They've trapped us, boys ! " 
Rose from our flank a voice. 

With a rush of steel and smoke 
On came the rebels straight, 
Eager as love and wild as hate ; 

And our line reeled and broke, — 

There's one hope still : 

Those batteries parked on the hill ! 

" Battery, wheel ! " (mid the roar) 
" Pass pieces ; fix prolonge to fire 
Retiring. Trot ! " In the panic dire, 

A bugle rings " Trot " — and no more. 

The horse plunged, 
The cannon lurched and lunged, 
To join the hopeless rout. 



BREATHING 75 

But suddenly rode a form, 
Calmly in front of the human storm, 
With a stern, commanding shout : — 

" Align those guns ! " 

(We knew it was Pleasonton's.) 

The cannoneers bent to obey, 
And worked with a will, at his word, 
And the black guns moved as if they had heard. 

But ah, the dread delay ! 

" To wait is crime : 

O God, for ten minutes time ! " 

The general looked around. 
There Keenan sat, like a stone, 
With his three hundred horse alone, 

Less shaken than the ground. 

" Major, your men ? " — 

" Are soldiers, general." — " Then 

Charge, major ! Do your best : 
Hold the enemy back, at all cost, 
Till my guns are placed ; else the army is lost. 

You die to save the rest ! " 

By the shrouded gleam of the western skies, 
Brave Keenan looked in Pleasonton's eyes 
For an instant, — clear, and cool, and still ; 
Then, with a smile, he said, "I will." 

" Cavalry, charge ! " Not a man of them shrank. 
Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank, 
Rose joyously, with a willing breath, — 
Rose like a greeting hail to death. 



76 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds, 
And blades that shine like sunlight reeds, 
And strong brown faces bravely pale 
For fear their proud attempt shall fail, 
Three hundred Pennsylvanians close 
On twice ten thousand gallant foes. 

Line after line the troopers came 

To the edge of the wood that was ringed with flame: 

Rode in and sabered and shot — and fell ; 

Nor came one back his wounds to tell. 

And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall 

In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his fall, 

While the circle stroke of his saber, swung 

Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung. 

****** 
So they rode, till there were no more to ride. 

But over them, lying there shattered and mute, 
What deep echo rolls ? 'Tis a death salute 
From the cannon in place. For, heroes, you braved 
Your fate not in vain : the army was saved ! 

— Gr. P. Lathrop (abridged). 

AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT 

[To be read with a weak, depressed chest and minor whine characteristic of 
one who looks on the dark side of everything.] 

How do you do, Cornelia ? I heard you were sick, and 
I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often 
say, " It's such a comfort to see you, Aunty Doleful. You 
have such a flow of conversation, and are so lively." Be- 
sides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs, " Perhaps 
it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive." 



BREATHING 77 

You dont mean to die yet, eh f Well, now, how do you 
know ? You can't tell. You think you are getting bet- 
ter ; but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and every 
one saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was 
taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash. 
But you must be careful, and not get anxious or excited. 
Keep quite calm, and don't fret about anything. Of 
course, things can't go on just as if you were downstairs; 
and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was 
sailing about in a tub on the mill pond, and that your 
little Sammy was letting your little Jimmy down from 
the veranda roof in a clothes basket. 

Gracious goodness ! what's the matter ? I guess Provi- 
dence '11 take care of 'em. Don't look so. You thought 
Bridget ivas watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw 
her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a 
burglar. No doubt she'll let him take the impression of 
the door key in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you 
all. There was a family at Kobble Hill all killed last 
week for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget so ; it will be 
bad for the baby. 

Poor little dear ! How singular it is, to be sure, that 
you can't tell whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb, 
or a cripple, at that age. It might be all, and you'd never 
know it. 

Most of them that have their senses make bad use of 
them though : that ought to be your comfort, if it does 
turn out to have anything dreadful the matter with it. 
And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral down 
the street as I came along. 

How is Mr. Kobble ? Well, but finds it warm in toivn, 
eh? Well, I should think he would. They are dropping 
down by hundreds there with sunstroke. You must pre- 



78 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

pare your mind to have him brought home any clay. Any- 
how, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your 
life every time you take one. Back and forth every day 
as he is, it's just trifling with danger. 

Dear ! dear ! now to think what dreadful things hang 
over us all the time ! Dear ! dear ! 

Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. 
Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing 
with him last Saturday. 

Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick 
friend, and I shan't think my duty done unless I cheer 
her up a little before I sleep. Good-by. How pale you 
look, Cornelia. I don't believe you have a good doctor. 
Do send him away and try some one else. You don't 
look so well as you did when I came in. But if anything 
happens, send for me at once. If I can't do anything 
else, I can cheer you up a little. —Mary Kyle Dallas. 



CHAPTER VIII 

VOCAL POWER 

The degree of energy with which we speak is termed 
Force. Force is often confounded with mere loudness, 
but the truth is, that great intensity of feeling is seldom 
shown by noise. True force is a sense of strong action of 
every muscle, shown especially by an expansion of the 
chest, and deep breathing. It often happens that greater 
volume accompanies this energetic action, but sometimes, 
in great concentration, the effect is quite the opposite. 
In gentle feelings the voice of course is not loud, but 
neither should it be muffled or thin. For ordinary read- 
ing a clear, full, but not vociferous delivery is sufficient. 

In practicing for volume or force, care should be taken 
to avoid straining the voice either by too loud or too long- 
continued vociferation. 

The following exercises will be found beneficial not 
only for the direct purpose of gaining vocal power, but 
also, if practiced according to directions, for improving 
the quality of the voice. 

VOCAI, EXERCISE I 

[For volume and resonance.] 

The mouth should be well opened at the back, the lips 
rounded more than usual, and the breath sustained firmly 
at the waist for all loud tones. Try, too, to have the 
greatest possible amount of "head resonance," that is, 

79 



80 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

sense of vibration in the nasal passages as well as in the 
mouth, and to have no effort in the throat. Practice on 
various pitches. 

For bright quality, use «, a, e\ for depth, a, u\ for 
"round" tone, o-oo: the normal voice should combine 
all these requisites. 

Practice loudly: Ha! Hey! Hello! Who are you? 
Fire! Charge! Ring! Say! Sah ! So! 

— And dar'st thou then 
To beard the lion in his den, 

The Douglas in his Hall ? 
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? 
No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no ! 
Up drawbridge, grooms ! — What, warder, ho! 

Let the portcullis fall ! 



EXERCISE II 

FOR PROJECTION OF VOICE 

Count in a whisper, as clearly and loudly as possible 
and without waste of breath, "one! two! three!" etc., 
up to twenty. This is also excellent for articulation. 
Try to have all the action in the front of the mouth, and 
to send the whisper to the farthest part of the room. 
Reserve the breath as much as possible. 

EXERCISE III 

[For crescendo and diminuendo.] 

Take a full breath and sustain &", a, <?, o, oo, or a (a in 
a/Z), gradually diminishing the tone, but keeping it clear 
and bright to the end. Begin softly, and gradually in- 
crease the volume. Use rising and falling inflections. 



VOCAL POWER 81 

EXERCISE IV 

[For attack.] 

Use a, <?, I, 0, u, for sharp, accurate, but gentle, attack. 
Try to feel that these vowels strike against the hard 
palate with the precision of a hammer, and with no waste 
of breath. Precede the vowels with I (la, le, etc.), t, d, 
and later with k. 

EXERCISE V 

[For head resonance.] 

M, n, ng, at first softly, on a high pitch, gradually in- 
creasing the volume. Practice on a descending scale or 
slide, taking especial care that the lowest notes are felt to 
vibrate in the nasal cavities. Later, use km, kn, hm, hn, 
kng, ling, and combine with the vowels ; e.g., knoo, o, a, a, 
on various pitches. 1 

1 To the Teacher. — Beauty of voice is, to a great extent, a matter 
of resonance. No written directions for voice culture can take the place 
of personal instruction, but one principle may be stated which may help 
to clear up some difficulties in ordinary training. It is that the physical 
conditions for clear, pure tone are essentially those for full, resonant 
shouting ; that is, the organs must be in readiness for loud tone. But the 
practice should be with moderate, or even gentle, force. Be careful to 
avoid the opposite extremes of too rigid and flabby muscles. Practice on 
soft tones is often ineffective because of too great relaxation, while loud 
tones are too often produced with undue muscular grip, especially in the 
throat. On the other hand, loud shouting with flabby palate and pharynx 
is a most efficient means of vocal degeneration. 

No better exercises for rudimentary voice training can be given than 
the above, beginning with a full, energetic tone and gradually learning to 
produce a soft, bright tone with the same energetic coordination of the 
whole vocal apparatus. 

The practice of very soft, almost inaudible, but clear, humming is also 
to be recommended for "placing" the voice, 
sou. sch. spea. — 6 



82 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The following poem illustrates many degrees of force 
and volume, from the whispered "Silence! " to the alarum 
call. Notice that the call in the last line should be deliv- 
ered quite loudly, but with relaxation of the body instead 
of the normal tension. The poem is also an excellent 
study in pause, inflection, pitch, and melody, as well as in 
the expression of the eye and face. In fact, it sums up 
very effectively all that we have gone over in our studies. 



THE FALL OF D'ASSAS 

Alone, through gloomy forest shades, a soldier went by 

night ; 
No moonbeam pierced the dusky glades, no star shed 

guiding light ; 
Yet, on his vigil's midnight round, the youth all cheerly 

passed, 
Unchecked by aught of boding sound that muttered in 

the blast. 

Where were his thoughts that lonely hour ? In his far 

home ; perchance 
His father's hall, his mother's bower, 'midst the gay vines 

of France. 
Hush! hark! did stealing steps go by? Came not faint 

whispers near ? 
No ! The wild wind hath many a sigh, amid the foliage 

sere. 

Hark! yet again! — and from his hand what grasp hath 

wrenched the blade ? 
O, single 'midst a hostile band, young soldier, thou'rt 

betrayed ! 



VOCAL POWER 88 

" Silence ! " in undertones they cry ; " no whisper — not a 

breath ! 
The sound that warns thy comrades nigh shall sentence 

thee to death." 

Still at the bayonet's point he stood, and strong to meet 

the blow ; 
And shouted, 'midst his rushing blood, " Arm ! arm ! 

Auvergne ! the foe ! " 
The stir, the tramp, the bugle call, he heard their tumults 

grow ; 
And sent his dying voice through all, — " Auvergne ! 

Auvergne ! the f oe ! " 

— Felicia Hemans. 

STRESS 

Forcible emphasis is often given to words by added 
strength of utterance on the accented syllable. This 
extra pressure of sound upon a syllable is called Stress. 
Stress may be defined as force applied to a definite part of 
a syllable. 

The commonest forms of stress are Radical or Initial 
(>), Median (O), and Final or Vanishing Stress (<)• 

Initial Stress, which most commonly occurs, is an abrupt 
pressure at the beginning of an accented syllable. It is 
heard in all intense or commanding expressions, and varies 
in intensity, with the strength of the feeling, from a 
slightly accentuated beat to the powerfully explosive 
utterance in anger, defiance, and the like. Readers are 
apt to overdo stress. Remember that real power is shown 
by self-restraint. 

Median stress is a name given to a gentle swell of the 
voice. It is associated with all gentle, loving, persuasive 



84 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

feelings, and is rather felt as the absence of the abrupt 
radical impulse, than noticed as a decided swell. It is 
associated with those delicate, caressing inflections which 
we have described as characteristic of tender feeling. 

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 
When we were first acquent, 
Your locks were like the raven, 
Your bonie brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is held, John, 
Your locks are like the snaw ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill thegither ; 

And mony a cantie day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither : 

Now we maun totter down, John, 

But hand in hand we'll go, 

And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson, my jo. —Burns. 

Final or terminal stress is a flare or explosion of the 
voice at the end of the vowel instead of its beginning. 
It is seldom heard except in expressions of brutal or 
uncontrolled feelings, and is usually to be avoided rather 
than cultivated. 

" So, you will fly out ! Can't you be cool, like me ? — What 
good can passion do ? — passion is of no service, you impudent, 
insolent, overbearing reprobate! — There, you sneer again! — 
don't provoke me! but you rely upon the mildness of my 



VOCAL POWER 85 

temper — you do, you dog! you play upon the meekness of my 
disposition ! Yet take care — the patience of a saint may be 
overcome at last! — but mark! — I give you six hours and a 
half to consider of this : if you then agree, without any condi- 
tion, to do everything on earth that I choose, why — confound 
you, I may in time forgive you. — If not, zounds! don't enter 
the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to breathe the same 
air, or use the same light with me ; but get an atmosphere and 
a sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission; I'll 
lodge a five-and-threepence in the hands of trustees, and you 
shall live on the interest. I'll disown you, I'll disinherit you, 
I — I'll never call you Jack again! " 

— Sheridan, The Rivals. 

A general principle governing stress and all forms of 
force may be stated as follows : — 

We expel or thrust away words expressive of unpleas- 
ant or repulsive things, e.g. "bah!" "pooh!" "disgust- 
ing!" We caress, dwell gently on, or, seemingly, draw 
in, words expressive of pleasant things, "beautiful!" 
"delicious!" "sweet and low!" Where our feelings are 
neutral or when our emotions are under control, we sim- 
ply speak with precision of accent. In Richelieu's proud 
reply to his king we need only so much of radical stress 
as shall show that he feels himself the true master : — 

" My liege, your anger can recall your trust, 
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, 
Rifle my coffers ; but my name, my deeds, 
Are royal in a land beyond your scepter." 

BULWER - LYTTON. 

Without this prompt stroke or attack of each important 
word, we should find it very hard to avoid a pompous 
swell of the voice, which would be most uncharacteristic 
of true dignity, but which is amusingly exemplified in the 
^nock-heroic strains of the following : — 



86 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE 

[By a Miserable Wretch.] 

Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 
Through pathless realms of space 

Roll on ! 
What though I'm in a sorry case ? 
What though I cannot meet my bills ? 
What though I suffer toothache's ills? 
What though I swallow countless pills ? 
Never you mind ! 

Roll on ! 

Roll on, thou ball, roll on ! 
Through seas of inky air 

Roll on ! 
It's true I've got no shirts to wear ; 
It's true my butcher's bill is due ; 
It's true my prospects all look blue ; 
But don't let that unsettle you ! 
Never you mind ! 

Roll on ! [It rolls on.'] 



— W. S. Gilbert. 



Richelieu's vindication 

My liege, your anger can recall your trust, 
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, 
Rifle my coffers ; but my name, my deeds, 
Are royal in a land beyond your scepter. 
Pass sentence on me, if you will ; — from kings 



VOCAL POWER 87 

Lo, I appeal to Time ! Be just, my liege. 

I found your kingdom rent with heresies, 

And bristling with rebellion ; — lawless nobles 

And breadless serfs ; England fomenting discord ; 

Austria, her clutch on your dominion ; Spain 

Forging the prodigal gold of either Ind 

To armed thunderbolts. The Arts lay dead ; 

Trade rotted in your marts ; your armies mutinous, 

Your treasury bankrupt. Would you now revoke 

Your trust, so be it ! and I leave you, sole, 

Supremest Monarch of the mightiest realm, 

From Ganges to the icebergs. Look without, — 

No foe not humbled ! Look within, — the Arts 

Quit, for our schools, their old Hesperides, 

The golden Italy ! while throughout the veins 

Of your vast empire flows in strengthening tides 

Trade, the calm health of Nations ! Sire, I know 

That men have called me cruel ; — 

I am not ; I am just ! I found France rent asunder, 

The rich men despots, and the poor banditti ; 

Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple ; 

Brawls festering to rebellion ; and weak laws 

Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. 

I have re-created France ; and, from the ashes 

Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass, 

Civilization, on her luminous wings, 

Soars, phoenixlike, to Jove ! What was my art? 

Genius, some say ; some, Fortune ; Witchcraft some. 

Not so ; my art was Justice. 

— Arranged from Bulwer-Lytton. 



88 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



HAMLETS INSTRUCTION TO THE PLAYERS 

[This is an admirable study in stress. Notice the gentle, princely manner 
of Hamlet's admonitions, alternating with his contempt for the ranting style 
of " many of our players."] 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you 
— trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as many 
of our players do, I had as lief the town crier spake my 
lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, 
thus ; but use all gently : for in the very torrent, tempest, 
and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must 
acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smooth- 
ness. Oh ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious 
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters — to very 
rags — to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the 
most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb 
shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped 
for o'er doing termagant : it out-Herods Herod. Pray } r ou, 
avoid it. 

Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion be 
your tutor. Suit the action to the word ; the word to the 
action ; with this special observance — that you o'erstep 
not the modesty of nature : for anything so overdone is 
from the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first 
and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to 
nature — to show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own 
image ; and the very age and body of the time his form 
and pressure. Now this, overdone or come tardy off, 
though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the 
judicious grieve; the censure of which one must, in your 
allowance, o'erweigh a whole theater of others. Oh ! 
there be players, that I have seen play, and heard others 
praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, 



VOCAL POWER 89 

neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of 
Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and bellowed, 
that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had 
made men, and not made them well — they imitated 
humanity so abominably. — Shakespeare. 



PORTIA S PLEA FOR MERCY 

[Persuasion and enthusiasm ; median stress.] 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath ; it is twice bless'd ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown : 
His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings : 
But mercy is above this sceptered sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings : 
It is an attribute of God himself : 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much, 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
— Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice. 



90 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



[Avoid bluster even in the strongest passages.] 

Conscript Fathers : 
I do not rise to waste the night in words ; 
Let that Plebeian talk, 'tis not my trade ; 
But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs, — 
For Roman right, though none, it seems, dare stand 
To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there ! 
Cling to your master, judges, Romans, slaves ! 
His charge is false ; — I dare him to his proofs. 
You have my answer. Let my actions speak ! 

But this I will avow, that I have scorned 
And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong. 
Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 
Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, 
Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts 
The gates of honor on me, — turning out 
The Roman from his birthright ; and for what ? 

To fling your offices to every slave ! 
Vipers, that creep where man disdains to climb, 
And, having wound their loathsome track to the top 
Of this huge, moldering monument of Rome, 
Hang hissing at the nobler man below. 

Come, consecrated Lictors, from your thrones ; 

(To the Senate.) 
Fling down your scepters ; take the rod and ax, 
And make the murder as you make the law. 

Banished from Rome ! What's banished, but set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 



VOCAL POWER 91 

44 Tried and convicted traitor ! " Who says this? 

Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 

Banished ! I thank you for't. It breaks my chain ! 

I held some slack allegiance till this hour ; 

But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my Lords ! 

I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 

Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 

I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 

To leave you in your lazy dignities. 

But here I stand and scoff you ! here I fling 

Hatred and full defiance in your face ! 

Your Consul's merciful ; — for this, all thanks. 

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline ! 

44 Traitor ! " I go ; but, I return ! This — trial ! 
Here I devote your Senate ! I've had wrongs 
To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 
This day's the birth of sorrow ; this hour's work 
Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my 

Lords ! 
For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ; all shames and crimes ; 
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and ax, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 

I go ; but not to leap the gulf alone. 
I go ; but when I come, 'twill be the burst 

Of ocean in the earthquake, — rolling back 



92 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

In swift and mountainous ruin. Fare you well ! 
You build my funeral pile ; but your best blood 
Shall quench its flame ! Back, slaves ! 
I will return. 

— Arranged from George Croly, Catiline. 

CALLING A BOY IN THE MORNING 

Calling a boy up in the morning can hardly be classed 
under the head of pastimes, especially if the boy has taken 
a great deal of active exercise the day before. And, it is 
a little singular that the next hardest thing to getting a 
boy out of bed is getting him into it. There is rarely a 
mother who is a success at rousing a boy. All mothers 
know this ; so do their boys ; and yet the mother seems to 
go at it in the right way. She opens the stair door and 
insinuatingly calls, "Johnny." There is no response. 
"Johnny." Still no response. Then there is a short, 
sharp " John," followed a moment later by a long and em- 
phatic "John Henry." 

A grunt from the upper regions signifies that an im- 
pression has been made, and the mother is encouraged to 
add: "You'd better be down here to your breakfast, 
young man, before I come up there, an' give you some- 
thing you'll feel." This so startles the young man that 
he immediately goes to sleep again. This operation has 
to be repeated several times. 

A father knows nothing about this trouble. He merely 
opens his mouth as a soda bottle ejects its cork, and the 
" John Henry " that cleaves the air of that stairway goes 
into that boy like electricity, and pierces the deepest re- 
cesses of his nature. He pops out of that bed and into 
his clothes, and down the stairs, w T ith a promptness that 



VOCAL POWER 93 

is commendable. It is rarely a boy allows himself to dis- 
regard the paternal summons. About once a year is 
believed to be as often as is consistent with the rules of 
health. He saves his father a great many steps by his 
thoughtf illness. —J. M. Bailey. 

THE POWER OF HABIT 

I remember once riding from Buffalo to the Niagara 
Falls. I said to a gentleman, "What river is that, sir?" 

"That," he said, " is Niagara River." 

" Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I ; " bright and 
fair and glassy. How far off are the rapids ? " 

" Only a mile or two," was the reply. 

u Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find 
the water in the turbulence which it must show near the 
falls ? " 

"You will find it so, sir." And so I did find it; and 
the first sight of Niagara I shall never forget. 

Now launch your bark on that Niagara River; it is 
bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There is a ripple 
at the bow ; the silver wake you leave behind adds to 
your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, 
and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure 
excursion. 

Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, " Young 
men, ahoy!" 

" What is it ? " 

" The rapids are below you." 

" Ha ! ha ! we have heard of the rapids ; but we are 
not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we 
shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore ; we will 
set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the 



94 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

land. Then on, boys; don't be alarmed, there is no 
danger." 

" Young men, ahoy there ! " 

" What is it ? " 

"The rapids are below you." 

" Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff ; all things delight 
us. What care we for the future ! No man ever saw it. 
Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy 
life while we may ; we will catch pleasure as it flies. 
This is enjoyment ; time enough to steer out of danger 
when we are sailing swiftly with the current." 

" Young men, ahoy ! " 

" What is it ? " 

" Beware ! beware ! the rapids are below you! " 

Now you see the water foaming all around. See how 
fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm ! Now turn ! 
Pull hard ! Quick ! quick ! quick ! pull hard for your 
lives! pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the 
veins start like whipcords upon your brow ! Set the 
mast in the socket ! hoist the sail ! ah ! ah ! it is too late ! 
" Shrieking, howling, blaspheming, over they go." 

Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every 
year through the power of habit, crying all the while, 
" When I find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up! " 

— John B. Gough. 



CHAPTER IX 

ENUNCIATION 

However expressive or charming the vocal delivery, it 
will fail to interest the audience unless they can both hear 
and understand what is said. 

Mere loudness may result only in confusion of sound, 
especially if there is an echo in the room. Distinctness is 
attained more by purity of tone and precision of utterance 
than by volume. 

The vowel sounds of the English language are as fol- 
lows, the order being from that made with the highest 
position of the tongue (<?~) to that with the lowest posi- 
tion of the tongue (a) and the roundest shape of the 
lips (66) : — 

e — in me", see, eel. 

i — in III, It, In, pity. 

a — in pay, say (notice the "vanish" e sound, which is 
always heard except when a precedes e, as in aerial). 

a — in care, fair, wherefore. 

e — in pet, let, set, end. 

a — " short " or " flat " in at, hat, cat ; slightly broader 
in man, can. 

a — " obscure " as in unaccented syllables, or the article 
a when unemphatic. Say neither u man, u horse, nor 
a man, a horse, unless you wish to emphasize the article. 

a — intermediate between a and a (a little like short 
6) ask, task, fast, dance ; not fast nor fast. Generally 

95 



96 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

heard in monosyllables ending with a double consonant 
sound (ft, st, nee). 

a — father, ah, part, guard, haunt, daunt (not daunt). 

e-i — before r, her, mother (not "motheh"), sir, not 
" suh," work, verge, therefore. 

u — before r, urn, curse, a fuller sound than the pre- 
ceding. 

u — up, cup, until, not ontil. 

6 — not, slightly broader in coffin, god, tvhat, not whut. 

a — all, awe, gaudy, always, not olways. 

6 — or, nor, o'er, a slightly rounded form of a, pro- 
nounced by some good speakers as nearly as possible like 
long o, e.g. more, as if spelled mower ; by others, like a. 

o — low, so; notice the vanish oo — lo~, especially 
when in an unaccented syllable. 

oo — foot, pull. 

00 — food (not food), you. 

COMBINATIONS 

1 — d-e blent, as in my, fine. 

u — eob, few, mule, mute, but the e is less prominent 
after s, I — superior, flute, lunatic, and disappears after r, 
rule. 

o\v — aob in how, row, our, not dr. 

oi — ae as in oil, toy, hoy. 

OBSCURE VOWELS 

In unaccented syllables the vowels are said to be obscure, 
that is, indefinite. On the platform we give more care tc 
the pronunciation of obscure vowels than we need to use 
in colloquial speech, because distinctness is all-important 



ENUNCIATION 97 

with the speaker ; but even then we must not overdo. 
People who say actor instead of actor (obscure o), the 
man for the man (thi), mispronounce as badly as those 
who say actur or thu. Pronouns, prepositions, connectives, 
and unimportant monosyllables are always obscure except 
when they are emphasized. 

In practicing the vowels, learn to sustain each sound 
accurately for a considerable time, until you are able to 
hold the lips and tongue steadily and without throatiness 
or nasality. In sustaining the compound vowels (except 
ii), hold the first sound until just as you are about to 
finish, when you give the two together, thus : I-a-ai. 
With w, however, the preliminary glide is of less impor- 
tance than the ob sound. The student who is sufficiently 
advanced to use this book does not need to be told that 
in English the above sounds are spelled in every imagi- 
nable way. 

The consonants or articulations are formed [1] by the 
quick approximation and instantaneous recoil of the lips 
(£>, 5), the tongue and teeth (£, c?), or the back of the 
tongue and soft palate (&, #); [2] by the friction of 
breath passing over the under lip (/, v), the tongue and 
teeth (s, z, zh, sh, tli), or striking the hard palate (A); 
[3] in a manner much like vowel formation, except that 
tli ere is more consciousness of the articulating organs, 
I, y (practically e and i), w. Those consonants in which 
the sense of resonance is chiefly oral, — that is, in the 
mouth, — are sometimes called semi-vowels. The nasals 
(ra, n, ng) resound in the nose. The following letters 
stand for combinations : ch "soft," as in chin = tsh ; j, or 
soft g — dzh; q in quart = kw ; x = ks. Even in obscure 
syllables be sure that the consonants are distinct. 

In general, we need only say that the chief faults in 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 7 



98 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

enunciating the consonants are a too sluggish action of 
the parts, and a forced or explosive manner. The func- 
tion of the consonant is to give precision to the enuncia- 
tion. The instant a consonant is pronounced, its work is 
done. An eminent author (Austin, Chironomici) has told 
us that each word should come from the mouth like a 
coin fresh from the mint. The vowels may be likened 
to the stream of molten metal, the consonants to the die 
that stamps each coin and gives it individuality. In col- 
loquial speech too great precision is out of place, but in 
public speaking you cannot enunciate too distinctly. This 
is especially true of the final consonants, which are usu- 
ally either swallowed or dropped entirely by untrained 
speakers. 

In practicing to avoid this fault, it is sometimes well to 
do as follows : 



EXERCISE I 

[For free egress of sound.] 

Count up to twenty thus : one-mA, two-%A, three-iJ*, 
etc., with a quick dropping of the lower jaw on the uh 
sound. Then count one! two ! etc., dropping the jaw 
in the same way, to let the final sound have free egress, 
but without the uh. 

Do this with all passages which offer special difficulties 
in articulation, and especially where the same, or similar, 
consonants are heard in succession, or where there is dan- 
ger of mistaking the sound, e.g. "the first time," not 
" firs time," " his beard descending," not " beer descend- 
ing." But see that final sounds are not unduly promi- 
nent, especially s, z, and r. 



ENUNCIATION 99 

EXERCISE II 

[For coutrol of the agents.] 

Use P, B, T, D, K, G-, as follows, imitating the beat of 
a drum.: — 

f— 0—0—0 j— 0—0—0—0 — \~0 — — 0- 

ppppp ppppp ppppp ppp 

pa pa pa pa pa, etc. 

up up up up up, etc. 

pup pup pup pup pup, etc. 

Use at first in connection with a, u, e, I, or other short 
vowel, e.g. pa, ap, at, tat, up, pup, cup. Gradually elim- 
inate the vowel sound, but try to keep the consonant as 
resonant as possible. Avoid all gripping, forcing, and 
facial distortions in both vowels and consonants. 

Always practice as if trying to make some one at a dis- 
tance understand what you are saying. 

The teacher may use other musical figures. 



EXPRESSIVE ENUNCIATION 

To give full expression to words requires more than 
mere accuracy ; one must put life into his words. To the 
majority of speakers, and especially readers, words are 
dead things, but to the orator, or the poet, every word 
has individuality. Such words as vast, tiny, grand, noble, 
mean, siveet, sour, bitter, harsh, hard, soft, solemnly, gently, 
requiem, hate, love, justice, mercy, may be read so as to con- 
vey not merely the sound of the word, but something of 
its meaning as well. In the following examples, which 

Lore. 



100 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

are excellent studies in articulation, try also to put mean- 
ing into the words by pitch, volume, stress, and above all, 
by varying tone color, that is, sound which suggests the 
emotion which the word conveys. Love, for instance, 
should have a different tone color from hate ; jo} r , from 
sorrow. 

THE LAW OF SUCCESS 

Self-denial and discipline are the foundation of all good 
character, the source of all true enjoyment, the means of 
all just distinction. This is the invariable law of our na- 
ture. Excellence of every sort is a prize, and a reward 
for virtuous, patient, and well-directed exertion, and ab- 
stinence from whatever may encumber, enfeeble, or delay 
us in our course. 

The approach to its lofty abode is rightly represented 
as steep and rugged. He who would reach it, must task 
his powers. But it is a noble task, for, besides the emi- 
nence it leads to, it nourishes a just ambition, subdues 
and casts off vicious propensities, and strengthens the 
powers employed in its service, so as to render them con- 
tinually capable of higher and higher attainments. 

— John Sargeant. 

Learning condemns beyond the reach of hope 
The careless lips that speak of soap for soap ; 
Her edict exiles from her fair abode 
The clownish voice that utters road for road : 
Less stern to him who calls his coat a coat, 
And steers his boat, believing it a boat. 
She pardoned one, our classic city's boast, 
Who said at Cambridge, most instead of most, 
But knit her brows and stamped her angry foot 
To hear a Teacher call a root a root. 



ENUNCIATION 101 

Once more ; speak clearly, if you speak at all ; 
Carve every word before you let it fall ; 
Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star, 
Try over hard to roll the British E. ; 
Do put your accents in the proper spot ; 

Don't, — let me beg you, — don't say " How ? " for " What ? " 
And, when you stick on conversation's burrs, 
Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs. 

— Holmes, Urania, A Rhymed Lesson. 

The hours pass slowly by, — nine, ten, eleven, — how sol- 
emnly the last stroke of the clock floats out upon the still air. 
It dies gently away, swells out again in the distance, and seems 
to be caught up by spirit-voices of departed years, until the air 
is filled with melancholy strains. It is the requiem of the 
dying year. —Brooks. 

On Esek Harden's oaken floor, 

With many an autumn threshing worn, 
Lay the heaped ears of unhusked corn, 

And thither came young men and maids, 
Beneath a moon that large and low, 
Lit that sweet eve of long ago. 

They took their places ; some by chance, 
And others by a merry voice 
Or sweet smile guided to their choice. 

— Whittier, Mabel Martin. 

There once was a writer named Wright, 

Who instructed his son to write right. 

He said : " Boy, write Wright right ; 

It is not right to write 

Wright awry ; try to write Wright aright ! " 

— Carolyn Wells. 

' THE CATARACT OF LODORE 

" How does the water come down at Lodore ? " 
My little boy asked me thus, once on a time ; 



102 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And, moreover, he tasked me to tell him in rhyme. 
Anon at the word, there first came one daughter, 
And then came another, to second and third 
The request of their brother, and to hear how the water 
Comes down at Lodore, with its rush and its roar, 
As many a time they had seen it before. 
So I told them in rhyme, for of rhymes I had store : 
And 'twas in my vocation for their recreation 
That so I should sing; because I was laureate to them 
and the king. 

From its sources which well in the tarn on the Fell ; 

From its fountains in the mountains, 

Its rills and its gills, through moss and through brake, 

It runs and it creeps for a while, till it sleeps 

In its own little lake. And thence at departing, 

Awaking and starting, it runs through the reeds, 

And away it proceeds, through meadow and glade, 

In sun and in shade, and through the wood shelter, 

Among crags in its flurry, helter-skelter, 

Hurry-skurry. Here it comes sparkling, 

And there it lies darkling ; now smoking and frothing 

Its tumult and wrath in, till in this rapid race 

On which it is bent, it reaches the place 

Of its steep descent. 

The cataract strong then plunges along, 
Striking and raging as if a war waging 
Its caverns and rocks among : rising and leaping, 
Sinking and creeping, swelling and sweeping, 
Showering and springing, flying and flinging, 
Writhing and wringing, eddying and whisking, 
Spouting and frisking, turning and twisting, 



ENUNCIATION 103 

Around and around with endless rebound ; 
Smiting and fighting, a sight to delight in ; 
Confounding, astounding, dizzying, and deafening 
The ear with its sound. 

Collecting, projecting, receding, and speeding, 
And shocking and rocking, and darting and parting, 
And threading and spreading, and whizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping, and hitting and splitting, 
And shining and twining, and rattling and battling, 
And shaking and quaking, and pouring and roaring, 
And waving and raving, and tossing and crossing, 
And flowing and going, and running and stunning, 
And foaming and roaming, and dinning and spinning, 
And dropping and hopping, and working and jerking, 
And guggling and struggling, and heaving and cleaving, 
And moaning and groaning ; 

And glittering and flittering, and gathering and feathering, 
And whitening and brightening, and quivering and shiv- 
ering, 
And hurrying and skurrying, and thundering and floun- 
dering ; 

Dividing and gliding and sliding, 
And falling and brawling and sprawling, 
And driving and riving and striving, 
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 
And sounding and bounding and rounding, 
And bubbling and troubling and doubling, 
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
And clattering and battering and shattering ; 



104 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, 
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, 
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, 
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, 
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, 
And thumping and pumping and bumping and jumping, 
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing; 
And so never ending, but always descending, 
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, 
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, 
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 

— Robert Southey. 

SHE WAVED 

[For rapid enunciation.] 

It was ten minutes before train time. 

" You can't pass through here without a ticket, madam," 
said the ticket taker. 

"But I want to wave." 

" Can't help it," said the ticket taker. " Step aside and 
let the others pass." 

The diminutive woman addressed gathered herself to- 
gether and clutched her companion by the arm as she 
replied : "I've come here to wave, and I'm going to wave. 
This is my sister, Arimita, who has been a-visitin' me for 
three weeks ; and she'd been here longer if she hadn't lost 
flesh so fast, and I was afraid that if she staid any longer 
she'd get to be a livin' skeleton ; and then she was away 
from home, and didn't know what might happen to the 
children while she was gone ; so in spite of everything 



ENUNCIATION 105 

they could do to keep her she just packed up her duds 
this mornin' and said she must go back home. Don't 
interrupt me, for I don't know when I will see Arimita 
again, it's so seldom that she can get awa}' from home to 
visit me ; and I can't get away from the city, although 
I'd like to ever so much, for I've only been here three 
months, and it's drefful hard gittin' around on the pave- 
ments, and I am jest mortally tired to death all the time, 
what with the noise and excitement and the goings on 
of my relatives here ; but they will have me stay, and 
Arimita would come too if it wasn't for the children ; but 
they are going to school, you know, and take so much 
care, Jake especially, though he is a good boy when he 
isn't in mischief ; and I know Arimita will be glad to get 
back again, though I must say I want her to stay powerful 
bad, and — " 

"Pass through!" roared the ticket taker. And as he 
saw the superintendent of the road in the far corner of 
the room glancing at him furtively out of the corner 
of his eye, he added, reflectively, to himself, " What's the 
use of trying to keep a job like this, anyway ? " 



THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT 

Behold the mansion reared by daedal Jack ! 

See the malt stored in many a plethoric sack, 
In the proude cirque of Ivan's bivouac. 

Mark how the rat's felonious fangs invade 
The golden stores in John's pavilion laid. 

Anon with velvet foot and Tarquin strides, 
Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides — 



106 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Grimalkin grim that slew the fierce rodent, 
Whose tooth insidious Johann's sackcloth rent. 

Lo ! now the deep-mouthed canine foes assault, 
That vexed the avenger of the stolen malt, 
Stored in the hallowed precincts to that hall 
That rose complete at Jack's creative call. 

Here stalks the impetuous cow with crumpled horn, 
Whereon the exacerbating hound was torn, 
Who bayed the feline slaughter-beast, that slew 
The rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran through 
The textile fibers that involve the grain 
Which lay in Hans' inviolate domain. 

Here walks forlorn the damsel crowned with rue, 
Lactiferous spoils from vaccine dugs who drew 
Of that corniculate beast whose tortuous horn 
Tossed to the clouds, in fierce, vindictive scorn, 
The hurrying hound, whose braggart bark and stir 
Arched the lithe spine and reared the indignant fur 
Of Puss, that, with verminicidal claw, 
Struck the weird rat, in whose insatiate maw, 
Lay reeking malt, that erst in Juan's courts we saw. 

Robed in senescent garb, that seems, in sooth, 
Too long a prey to Chronos' iron tooth, 
Behold the man whose amorous lips incline, 
Full of young Eros' osculative sign, 
To the lorn maiden, whose lact-albic hands 
Drew albu-lactic wealth from lacteal glands 
Of that immortal bovine, by whose horn, 
Distort to realms ethereal, was borne 



ENUNCIATION 107 

The beast Catulean, vexer of that sly 
Ulysses quadrupedal, who made die 
The old mordacious rat that dared devour 
Ante-cedaneous ale in John's domestic bower. 

Lo ! here, with hirsute honors doffed, succinct 

Of saponaceous locks, the priest who linked 

In Hymen's golden bands the torn unthrift, 

Whose means exiguous stared from many a rift, 

Even as he kissed the virgin all forlorn, 

Who milked the cow with implicated horn, 

Who in fine wrath the canine torturer skied, 

That dared to vex the insidious muricide, 

Who let auroral effluence through the pelt 

Of the sly rat that robbed the palace Jack had built. 

The loud cantankerous shanghai comes at last, 
Whose shouts arouse the shorn ecclesiast, 
Who sealed the vows of Hymen's sacrament 
To him who, robed in garments indigent, 
Exosculates the damsel lachrymose, 
Th' emulgator of that horned brute morose 
That tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that kilt 
The rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack 
built. 

SEAWEED 

When descends on the Atlantic 

The gigantic 
Stormwind of the equinox, 
Landward in his wrath he scourges 

The toiling surges, 
Laden with seaweed from the rocks : 



108 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

From Bermuda's reefs ; from edges 

Of sunken ledges, 
In some far-off, bright Azore ; 
From Bahama, and the dashing, 

Silver-flashing 
Surges of San Salvador ; 

From the tumbling surf, that buries 
The Orkneyan skerries, 

Answering the hoarse Hebrides ; 

And from wrecks of ships, and drifting 
Spars, uplifting 

On the desolate, rainy seas ; — 

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting 

On the shifting 
Currents of the restless main ; 
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches 

Of sandy beaches, 
All have found repose again. 

So when storms of wild emotion 

Strike the ocean 
Of the poet's soul, erelong 
From each cave and rocky fastness, 

In its vastness, 
Floats some fragment of a song : 

From the far-off isles enchanted, 

Heaven has planted 
-With the golden fruit of Truth ; 
From the flashing surf, whose vision 

Gleams Elysian 
In the tropic clime of Youth ; 



ENUNCIATION 109 

From the strong Will, and the Endeavor 

That forever 
Wrestles with the tides of Fate ; 
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, 

Tempest-shattered, 
Floating waste and desolate ; — 

Ever drifting, drifting, drifting 

On the shifting 
Currents of the restless heart ; 
Till at length in books recorded, 

They, like hoarded 
Household words, no more depart. 

— Longfellow. 



CHAPTER X 

ORATORICAL DELIVERY 

An oration is a composition expressly intended for 
delivery before an audience, presumably of considerable 
numbers, and in a place large enough to accommodate 
such an audience. Many of the greatest masterpieces of 
eloquence, like Lincoln's "Gettysburg Speech" or Web- 
ster's "Bunker Hill Oration," were delivered in the open 
air to vast multitudes of people. Under such circum- 
stances, it is evident that the speaker's delivery must be 
very different from that which he would use in conversa- 
tion, or in an informal address to a few friends. 

The orator's voice must reach, if possible, to the farthest 
listener, and time must be given for this, or his words, 
which sound clear enough near at hand, will become inex- 
tricably jumbled on the way. 

Again, the speaker must articulate with the utmost dis- 
tinctness, being especially careful that the final sound of 
each word is spoken clearly and kept separate from the 
next. Delicate shades of inflection are inaudible under 
such circumstances, and the orator must rely more upon 
enlargement and variety of melody than upon slide. Thus 
the first words of Lincoln's oration, which might in con- 
versational delivery have a form something like this : — 

ur score OTW , _ OQ „ ago, I our fathers brought forth 

ana seven years 

upon this continent | a new na^ 

110 



ORATORICAL DELIVERY HI 

would be enlarged to dimensions more like the follow- 



LP SC ° re - d seven _ III our ^ m . W bro ^ ht fOTth | upon 

™ ais ago HI 
new 
f -nent III 
this con 11 HI a na 

tion. 

There is no need for the speaker to shout himself hoarse. 
If he will speak slowly and distinctly, using a full, reso- 
nant voice and varying the pitch as much as possible 
without departing from the melody of conversation, he 
will have little trouble in being heard. A moderately 
high tone carries farther than a low one. 

Another prevalent fault in oratorical expression is that, 
in the effort to make himself understood, the speaker, if 
he does not shout, makes use of some sort of singsong 
intonation, half speech, half chant. It is undoubtedly the 
fact that song may be heard at a greater distance than 
speech, and, under extraordinary circumstances, monotone 
may be justifiable; but the effect is wearisome in the 
extreme to the average listener. On the other hand, a 
bright, animated, and impressive delivery goes far toward 
rendering even commonplace ideas attractive. 

The best practice for attaining a conversational style in 
oratory is to read a passage first in the most colloquial 
manner possible, then enlarging and energizing it, but 
keeping as near as possible to the colloquial form. Do 
this with all the following selections, as well as with some 
of those previously studied. One of the best studies for 
the broader forms of oratorical inflection is Brutus's 
address on the death of Caesar (p. 46). 



112 SCHOOL SPEAK Kit 



ORIENT YOURSELF 



The Germans and French have a beautiful phrase which 
would enrich any language that should adopt it. They 
say : " to orient; " or, " to orient one's self." 

When a traveler arrives at a strange city, or is over- 
taken by night or by a storm, he takes out his compass 
and learns which way is the East, or Orient. Forthwith 
all the cardinal points — east, west, north, south — take 
their true places in his mind, and he is in no danger of 
seeking for the sunset or the polestar in the wrong quarter 
of the heavens. He orients himself. 

When commanders of armies approach each other for 
the battle, on which the fate of empires may depend, 
each learns the localities of the ground, — how best he can 
intrench his front or cover his flank, how best he can 
make a sally or repel an assault. He orients himself. 

When a statesman revolves some mighty scheme of 
administrative policy, so vast as to comprehend surround- 
ing nations and later times in its ample scope, he takes 
an inventory of his resources, he adapts means to ends, 
he adjusts plans and movements so that one shall not 
counter-work another, and he marshals the whole series 
of affairs for producing the grand result. He orients 
himself. 

Young man ! open your heart before me for one moment, 
and let me write upon it these parting words. The gra- 
cious God has just called you into being ; and, during the 
few years you have lived, the greatest lesson you have 
learned is, that you shall never die. All around your body 
the earth lies open and free, and you can go where you 
will; all around your spirit the universe lies open and 
free, and you can go where you will. Orient yourself! 



ORATORICAL DELIVERY 113 

Orient Yourself ! Seek frivolous and elusive pleasures 
if you will ; expend your immortal energies upon ignoble 
and fallacious joys ; but know, their end is intellectual 
imbecility, and the perishing of every good that can 
ennoble or emparadise the human heart. Obey, if you 
will, the law of the baser passions, — appetite, pride, self- 
ishness, — but know, they will scourge you into realms 
where the air is hot with fiery-tongued scorpions, that 
will sting and torment your soul into unutterable agonies ! 
But study and obey the sublime laws on which the frame 
of nature was constructed ; study and obey the sublimer 
laws on which the soul of man was formed ; and the full- 
ness of the power and the wisdom and the blessedness, 
with which God has filled and lighted up this resplendent 
universe, shall all be yours! — Horace Mann. 



DUTY OF THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR 

Gentlemen : Thought, which the scholar represents, 
is life and liberty. There is no intellectual or moral 
life without liberty. Therefore, as a man must breathe 
and see before he can study, the scholar must have liberty 
first of all; and as the American scholar is a man, and 
has a voice in his own government, so his interest in 
political affairs must precede all others. He must build 
his house before he can live in it. He must be a per- 
petual inspiration of freedom in politics. He must recog- 
nize that the intelligent exercise of political rights, which 
is a privilege in a monarchy, is a duty in a republic. If 
it clash with his ease, his taste, his study, let it clash, but 
let him do his duty. The course of events is incessant, 
but when the good deed is slighted the bad deed is done. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 8 



114 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Scholars, you would like to loiter in the pleasant paths 
of study. Every man loves his ease, loves to please his 
taste. But into how many homes along this lovely valley 
came the news of Lexington and Bunker Hill, eighty years 
ago, and young men like us, studious, fond of leisure, 
young lovers, young husbands, young brothers and sons, 
knew that they must forsake the wooded hillside, the river 
meadows, golden with harvest, the twilight walk along the 
river, the summer Sunday in the old church, parents, wife, 
and child, and go away to uncertain war. Putnam heard 
the call at his plow, and turned to go, without waiting. 
Wooster heard it, and obeyed. 

Not less lovely in those days was this peaceful valley, 
not less soft this summer air. Life was dear, and love as 
beautiful to those young men as it is to us who stand upon 
their graves. But, because they were so dear and beauti- 
ful, those men went out bravely to fight for them, and fall. 
Through these very streets they marched, who never re- 
turned. They fell, and were buried ; but they can never 
die. Not sweeter are the flowers that make your valley 
fair, not greener are the pines that give your river its 
name, than the memory of the brave men who died for 
freedom. 

Gentlemen, while we read history we make history. 
Because our fathers fought in this great cause, we must 
not hope to escape fighting. Because, two thousand years 
ago, Leonidas stood against Xerxes, we must not suppose 
that Xerxes was slain, nor, thank God, that Leonidas is 
not immortal. Every great crisis of human history is a 
pass of Thermopylae, and there is always a Leonidas and 
his three hundred to die in it, if they can not conquer. 
And, so long as Liberty has one martyr, so long as one 
drop of blood is poured out for her, so long from that 



ORATORICAL DELIVERY 115 

single drop of bloody sweat of the agony of humanity 
shall spring hosts as countless as the forest leaves, and 
mighty as the sea. —George William Curtis. 

PATRIOTISM 

A man's country is not a certain area of land, — of 
mountains, rivers, and woods, — but it is principle ; and 
patriotism is loyalty to that principle. 

In poetic minds and in popular enthusiasm this feeling 
becomes closely associated with the soil and symbols of 
the country. But the secret sanctification of the soil 
and the symbol is the idea which they represent, and this 
idea the patriot worships through the name and the sym- 
bol, as a lover kisses with rapture the glove of his mistress 
and wears a lock of her hair upon his heart. 

So, with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never 
weary of tenderly telling, Arnold von Winkelried gathers 
into his bosom the sheaf of foreign spears, that his death 
may give life to his country. So Nathan Hale, disdaining 
no service that his country demands, perishes untimely, 
with no other friend than God and the satisfied sense of 
duty. So George Washington, at once comprehending 
the scope of the destiny to which his country was devoted, 
with one hand puts aside the crown, and with the other 
sets his slaves free. So, through all history from the be- 
ginning, a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely and 
fallen bravely for that unseen mistress, their country. 
So, through all history to the end, as long as men believe 
in God, that army must still march and fight and fall — 
recruited only from the flower of mankind — cheered only 
by their own hope of humanity — strong only in their con- 
fidence in their cause. —Curtis. 



116 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



THE MISSION OF AMERICA 

America has abstained from interference in the concerns 
of others, even when the conflict has been for principles 
to which she clings, as to the last vital drop that visits 
the heart. She has seen that, probably for centuries to 
come, all the contests of that Aceldama, the European 
world, will be contests between inveterate power and 
emerging right. Wherever the standard of freedom and 
independence has been or shall be unfurled, there will her 
heart, her benedictions, and her prayers be. But she goes 
not abroad in search of monsters to destroy. She is the 
wellwisher to the freedom and independence of all. She 
is the champion and vindicator only of her own. She will 
recommend the general cause by the countenance of her 
voice and the benignant sympathy of her example. She 
well knows that, by once enlisting under other banners 
than her own, were they even the banners of foreign inde- 
pendence, she would involve herself, beyond the power of 
extrication, in all the wars of interest and intrigue, of in- 
dividual avarice, envy, and ambition, which assume the 
color and usurp the standard of freedom. The funda- 
mental maxims of her policy would insensibly change from 
liberty to force. The frontlet upon her brows would no 
longer beam with the ineffable splendor of freedom and 
independence; but in its stead would soon be substituted 
an imperial diadem, flashing in false and tarnished luster 
the murky radiance of dominion and power. She might 
become the dictatress of the world ; she would no longer 
be the ruler of her own spirit. —John Quixcy Adams. 



ORATORICAL DELIVERY 117 



MY AMBITION 



I have been accused of ambition in presenting this 
measure, — inordinate ambition ! If I had thought of 
myself only, I should have never brought it forward. 1 
know well the perils to which I expose myself, — the risk 
of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little 
prospect of making new ones, if any new ones could com- 
pensate for the loss of those we have long tried and loved ; 
and the honest misconception, both of friends and foes. 
Ambition! If I had listened to its soft and seducing 
whispers, if I had yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, 
calculating, and prudential policy, I would have stood 
still; I might have silently gazed on the raging storm, 
enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left those who are 
charged with the care of the vessel of state to conduct it 
as they could. I have been heretofore often unjustly ac- 
cused of ambition. Low, groveling souls, who are utterly 
incapable of elevating themselves to the higher and nobler 
duties of pure patriotism, beings who, forever keeping 
their own selfish aims in view, decide all public measures 
by their presumed influence on their aggrandizement, 
judge me by the venal rule which they prescribe to them- 
selves. I have given to the winds those false accusations, 
as I consign that which now impeaches my motives. I 
have no desire for office, not even for the highest. The 
most exalted is but a prison, in which the incumbent daily 
receives his cold, heartless visitants, marks his weary 
hours, and is cut off from the practical enjoyment of all 
the blessings of genuine freedom. I am no candidate for 
any office in the gift of the people of these states, united 
or separated : I never wish, never expect to be. Pass 
this bill, tranquilize the country, restore confidence and 



118 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

affection in the Union, and I am willing to go home to 
Ashland, and renounce public service forever. 1 should 
there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, 
amid my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, 
sincerity and truth, attachment and fidelity, and grati- 
tude, which I have not always found in the walks of 
public life. Yes, I have ambition ; but it is the ambition 
of being the humble instrument, in the hands of Provi- 
dence, to reconcile a divided people, once more to revive 
concord and harmony in a distracted land, — the pleasing 
ambition of contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, 
united, prosperous, and fraternal people. 

— Henry Clay. 



CHAPTER XI 



GESTURE 



The speaker has another means at his command for 
arresting and directing the attention of his audience and 
for emphasizing his chief points. This is gesture. By 
gesture we mean expressive movement, especially of the 
arms and head. Gesture should be reserved for emphatic 
passages or for those in which the author's meaning can- 
not be fully expressed by the voice alone. 



EXERCISE I 



PREPARATORY 



Standing in the first position (page 10) with the arms 
hanging loosely, shoulders and muscles of the neck per- 
fectly passive : (1) Relax the arms and shoulders com- 
pletely by turning the body rather sharply from left to 
right and back a number of times, letting the arms go 
where they may. 

(2) Raise the upper arm at the side with the forearm 
dangling lifelessly, and in this po- 
sition shake the upper arm until 
the forearm and hand can be thrown 
about freely. (See figure.) 

(3) Extend the arms straight out 
from the shoulder with the hands 
dangling and shake the hands in the 
same way, 1) at the sides, 2) in front, 
with palms (a) downward, (6) upward, (c) edgewise. 

119 




120 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

(4) With elbows at the sides, raise the forearm only, 
shaking the hands as before in the various positions 
described above. 

EXERCISE II 

INDICATION 

After thoroughly relaxing as above, (1) lift first the 
upper arm, then the forearm, then the hand, finally point- 
ing with the forefinger, allowing the other fingers to take 
their natural free and relaxed attitude. (2) Bring the arm 
back to the side in the same order. Point in various 
directions and with the palm up, edgewise, or downward. 
Use either hand. 

Practice also with the forearm and hand, and with the 
hand alone ; in the latter case, first lifting the forearm 
carelessly until the wrist is about on a line with the elbow, 
or opposite the middle of the chest. Point in various 
directions, until flexibility and ease of wrist have been 
attained. At first go very slowly, but gradually blend 
the movements until there is no perceptible break in the 
action. 

Be sure that in all these actions you have the least pos- 
sible muscular tension or effort. Use just the muscles 
that are necessary and no more. Say, " Look at that 
tree, house, book, window," etc. We use the finger for 
definite or minute objects, the whole hand with fingers 
outspread for vast objects. Of course, there are many 
degrees between these extremes. 

Wherever we find it necessary to locate an object we 
make use of indicative, or as they are sometimes called, 
locative gestures ; but remember that, though for practice 
you may make a great many gestures, in actual speaking 



GESTURE 121 

you should let "discretion be your tutor." No gesture 
at all is far better than superfluous or unmeaning action. 

ATTITUDES OF THE HAND 

The feeling with which we regard the object or person 
indicated is shown by the attitude of the hand. Thus, a 
neutral indication is shown by the simple pointing of the 
forefinger ; but a sense of pleasure in the object would be 
shown by a caressing attitude of the hand and fingers, 
much like that we have in patting a dog, or smoothing a 
bit of velvet. Antagonism is shown by a tendency to 
repel or push away the object indicated, either with the 
edge of the hand, or, in strong feeling, with the palm or 
fist. Superior things, or things which we would put 
above us, or would exhibit favorably, are indicated often 
with the palm up, or, as we say, with supportive gesture, 
as if we lifted them to be seen. Things which we would 
put below us or which we regard as inferior, we show 
with the palm down. What is true of objects or persons 
is true of ideas ; we act toward imaginary objects, or ideas, 
just as we would toward real things, or people. 

GESTURES OF THE HEAD 

In colloquial speech we often indicate merely by a slight 
turn of the head or inclination toward the object. In all 
excited action we have nods and shakes of the head, and 
various movements expressive of our feelings; but in dig- 
nified speech, and especially in oratorical delivery, con- 
stant motion of the head is out of place. Compare also 
what was said under " The Eye and Face in Reading " 
(p. 51, and especially p. 55). 



122 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

EXERCISE III 

Look first at the object, then, as you point, look back to 
the audience. Use the hand only for trivial things, the 
forearm and hand for conversation, and the full arm for 
very strong feelings and oratorical effects. 

Indicate simply a definite object (a) with hand, 
(6) with forearm, (<?) with full arm. 

Indicate a broad surface (as the setting sun, the wall of 
a house, a tree), using the expanded hand. 

Indicate carelessly a number of objects in succession 
{e.g. with hand relaxed, palm up, " John, James, and 
Henry")- 

Indicate with pleasure a beautiful rose, a picture, a 
sunset, a cunning little kitten. 

Indicate with repulsion, or rejection, a silly child, a 
hideous reptile, a black thundercloud. Here the palm is 
presented, as if to push away the object. 

Indicate with the fist, or with the forefinger extended, 
and the other fingers clenched (a) an enemy, "The 
rascal," " And shook his gauntlet at the towers," (6) a 
child, playfully, " Don't do that." 

Indicate with support (palm upward), a friend, an idea, 
"I give my heart and hand to this vote/' a chair, u Pray 
be seated." 

Indicate with command (palm down), a chair, " Sit 
down, sir ! " the door, " Leave the room." 

Indicate yourself, "I myself." 

EXERCISE IV 

GESTURES OF PERSONAL RELATION 

These exhibit more particularly the relation between 
the speaker and his audience, or the object addressed. 



GESTURE 123 

Use first one, then both hands, and with various degrees 
of energy and of extension from hand to fully developed 
arm. The strongest action is with both arms. 

Interpellation. — Raise the palm toward the audience, 
as if to hush or command attention. 

Appeal. — -Extend the hand as if to receive something 
from those addressed: " Isn't it true ?'" The head slightly 
inclined, the palm up. Invitation. — As if beckoning. 
This is oftenest used as preliminary to gestures of indica- 
tion, as much as to say, " Come, let us look at this ! " 

Protest. — As if pushing your audience away: "I pro- 
test against it." The head drawn back or lifted slightly. 

G-reeting. — Offer your hand as if to shake hands (a) 
with palm up, you greet a superior ; (6) with palm down, 
an inferior ; (c) edgewise, an equal. (The head bowing.) 
Presentation of ideas is very similar to the above. 

Urge or Impel. — Much like protestation. The words and 
manner of the speaker will make the intention clear. The 
various actions under Ex. II. may also be directed to the 
audience. 

EXERCISE V 

GESTUEES OF ENFOECEMENT 

Our gestures are often merely the expression of a pur- 
pose to enforce or emphasize what we say. For example: 
raise the arm, at the same time bowing the head, then 
bring down the arm, lifting the head, say, "I will." This 
is a common gesture of affirmation. Its purpose is to 
emphasize what is said. The upward movement is called 
preparation ; the downward, the execution or completion of 
the gesture. Often the preparation is suspended or ar- 
rested to still further intensify the effect of the downward 
movement. The action of the head here is said to oppose 



124 



SCHOOL SPEAKER 



that of the arm. In all strong gesture there is a tendency 
of the head to go in the opposite direction from the arm. 
Parallel action, i.e. action in the same direction with the 
arm, should always be avoided. Do not overdo the op- 
posing actions of the head. 

A list of the commoner gestures of emphasis follows: — 
Affirmation (as above). — "I will," "It is so," implying 
strong personal feeling. 

Invocation or Assertion. — The arm raised, the head 
opposing; serious, solemn asseveration: 
"I call Heaven to witness." 

Declaration. — The hand extended ob- 
liquely at the side, palm toward the 
audience, implying sincere, unemotional 
statement: "You see for yourself." 
The declaration is often prepared by a 
folding motion, suggestive of self-indi- 
cation. One or both hands may be used. 
Surrender. — The arm lifted more or 
less, then going downward at the side 
obliquely, with the hand relaxed as if 
releasing something: "I acknowledge it." 

Negation. — Preparation: the hand across the body, the 






GESTURE 125 

head opposing. Completion: the edgewise hand outward 
at the side, on a line with the shoulder, as if thrusting 
something away: " It is not so." 

ENERGETIC ACTION 

Practice all gestures with many degrees of energy, but 
be sure that in strong feeling there is correspondingly 
strong muscular action, not merely in the direction of the 
gesture, but in the opposing muscles. For instance, in 
extending the arm upward, feel that the arm has at the 
same time a tendency to draw back, which is overcome 
by the still more powerful upward impulse. The body, 
too, must participate in the muscular opposition. In the 
strongest forms of gesture the bodily attitude often op- 
poses the action. That is, if the right arm is advanced, 
the right foot is retired with the weight thrown upon it. 

In the following selections make the greatest possible 
use of gesture for the sake of practice. Add actions of 
your own to those described above. Be sure your ges- 
tures are not cramped or timid. Courage will give flu- 
ency and practice will give control of gesture. 

SELECTIONS FOR GESTURE 

THE BOYS 

[Colloquial manner, gesture of forearm and hand predominating.] 

Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys ? 
If there has, take him out, without making a noise. 
Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite, 
Old Time is a liar ! We're twenty to-night ! 

We're twenty ! We're twenty ! Who says we are more ? 
He's tipsy, — young jackanapes ! — show him the door ! 



126 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" Gray temples at twenty ? " — Yes ! white if we please ; 
Where the snowflakes fall thickest there's nothing can 
freeze ! 

Was it snowing I spoke of ? Excuse the mistake ! 
Look close, — you will see not a sign of a flake ! 
We want some new garlands for those we have shed, — 
And these are white roses in place of the red. 

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told, 
Of talking (in public) as if we were old : — 
That boy we call " Doctor," and this we call " Judge " ; 
It's a neat little fiction, — of course it's all fudge. 

That fellow's the "Speaker," — the one on the right ; 
" Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night ? 
That's our " Member of Congress," we say when we chaff; 
There's the " Reverend " What's his name ? — don't make 
me laugh. 

That boy with the grave mathematical look 

Made believe he had written a wonderful book, 

And the Royal Society thought it was true ! 

So they chose him right in, — a good joke it was too ! 

There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, 
That could harness a team with a logical chain ; 
When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire, 
We called him " The Justice," but now he's " The Squire." 

And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith, — 
Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith ; 
But he shouted a song for the brave and the free, — 
Just read on his medal, " My country," " of thee ! " 



GESTURE 127 

You hear that boy laughing ? — You think he's all fun ; 
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has clone ; 
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, 
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all ! 

Yes, we're boys, — always playing with tongue or with 

pen ; 
And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever be men ? 
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay, 
Till the last dear companion drops smiling away ? 

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray ! 
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! 
And when we have done with our life-lasting toys, 
Dear Father, take care of thy children, the Boys ! 

— Holmes. 



THE DRUNKARD 

[Declaration and appeal.] 

Every drunkard clothes his head with a mighty scorn ; 
and makes himself lower than the meanest of his servants. 
The boys can laugh at him, when he is led like a cripple, 
directed like a blind man, and speaks like an infant, lisp- 
ing with a full and spongy tongue, and empty head, and 
a vain and foolish heart. So cheaply doth he part with 
his honor for drink ; for which honor he is ready to die, 
rather than bear it to be disparaged by another ; when he 
himself destroys it, as bubbles that perish with the breath 
of children. 

And is there anything in the world so foolish as a man 
that is drunk? But, what an intolerable sorrow hath 
seized upon great portions of mankind, that this folly and 



128 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

madness should possess the greatest spirits, and the wit- 
tiest men, the best company, the most sensible of the word 
honor, and the most jealous of the shadow, and the most 
careless of the thing! 

Is it not a horrid thing, that a wise, a learned, or a 
noble person, should dishonor himself as a fool, destroy his 
body as a murderer, lessen his estate as a prodigal, disgrace 
every good cause that he can pretend to, and become an 
appellative of scorn, a scene of laughter or derision, and 
all, for the reward of forgetf ulness and madness ? For 
there are, in immoderate drinking, no other pleasures. 

Why do valiant men and brave personages fight and die, 
rather than break the laws of men, or start from their 
duty to their country? Why do they suffer themselves 
to be cut in pieces rather than deserve the name of a trai- 
tor, or perjured ? And yet these very men, to avoid the 
hated name of drunkard, and to preserve their temperance, 
will not pour a cup of wine on the ground, when they are 
invited to drink by the laws of the circle or wilder com- 
pany. 

Methinks it were but reason, that, if to give life to up- 
hold a cause be not too much, they should not think it too 
much to suffer thirst for the reputation of that cause ; and 
therefore much rather think it but duty to be temperate 
for its honor, that, what they value most, be not destroyed 
by drink. —Jeremy Taylor. 

IN DEFENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN SUNDAY 

[Protestation.] 

There is going on to-day an organized conspiracy in 
which thousands of our well-meaning citizens are engaged, 
whose avowed purpose is to cut the heart out of our 



GESTURE 129 

Christian Sunday. They would, under the plea of per- 
sonal liberty, throw open the saloons during certain hours 
on that day. 

I protest against this ruthless invasion of the very 
sanctuary of God by the destroying foot of the Philistine, 
whose only God is his belly. The attack on the Christian 
Sunday is inspired partly by men who have no religion, 
partly by those who are restive under the little restraint 
the keeping of the law necessitates, who, I am sure, do 
not appreciate that, with the destruction of Sunday, will 
go much of the liberty we have attained and many of the 
sweetest joys of life. Do they not know that the so-called 
Continental Sunday is the outcome of the infidelity of the 
last century ? It was grasping avarice in the revival of 
commerce between France and England that thought it 
could not afford to spare the day to God; then unwise 
governments, inspired not too much with the spirit of 
Christ, yielding to the pressure and demand of Mammon, 
relaxed the law that for centuries guarded the sacredness 
of the day. 

In the name of public morality I protest against the 
opening of saloons at all on Sunday. The saloon is the 
plague spot in our civilization. It is the festering sore of 
immorality. It is the black spot wherein is generated the 
withering scourge of drunkenness. Shut up the saloons, 
and you may shut up nine tenths of our jails. The road 
from the saloon to the poorhouse, from the saloon to the 
insane asylum, is white with the bones of those who have 
fallen by the wayside in distress and agony. What, shall 
we give this vampire that already has poisoned the blood 
of the body politic still further opportunity to do unto 
death our civic strength ? Are not six days enough for it 
to prey on the poor weaklings of humanity ? What has 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 9 



130 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

it done for the State, or the welfare of the citizens, that 
it should be privileged thus ? It has stood in our com- 
monwealth for years as the lawless element, going into 
the legislature and giving the fat bribe to the legislator, 
snapping its finger at every effort to enforce the law in 
its regard, — controlling politics in such a way that good 
men must either bend the knee at its shrine or beat the 
dust of politics off their shoes. 

The butcher and the baker have been closed every Sun- 
day for the last hundred years, and there never was a 
word about restricting personal liberty ; but when the 
saloon is closed, forsooth, personal liberty, this bulwark 
of free government, is strangled. 

In the name of the truest liberty, the liberty that comes 
from the observance of good laws, I call upon all who 
listen to the voice of the Church, to stand resolutely 
together, and at this Thermopylae of religion, morality, 
and liberty resist the attack of the enemies of the Chris- 
tian Sunday. — Rev. Alexander P. Doyle. 



THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL 

[Strong action.] 

I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this house. I do not 
rise to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation 
to which I belong, — toward a nation which, though sub- 
ject to England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct 
nation ; it has been treated as such by this country, as 
may be proved by history, and by seven hundred years of 
tyranny. 

I call upon this house, as you value the liberty of Eng- 
land, not to allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it 



GESTURE 131 

are involved the liberties of England, the liberty of the 
press, and of every other institution dear to Englishmen. 

Against the bill I protest in the name of this Irish 
people, and in the face of Heaven. I treat with scorn 
the puny and pitiful assertions that grievances are not to 
be complained of, that our redress is not to be agitated ! 
for, in such cases, remonstrances cannot be too strong, 
agitation cannot be too violent, to show to the world with 
what injustice our fair claims are met, and under what 
tyranny the people suffer. 

There are two frightful clauses in this bill. The one 
which does away with trial by jury, and which I have 
called upon you to baptize : you call it a court-martial, — 
a mere nickname ; I stigmatize it as a revolutionary tri- 
bunal. What, in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not a 
revolutionary tribunal ? 

It annihilates the trial by jury ; it drives the judge 
from his bench, — the man who, from experience, could 
weigh the nice and delicate points of a case ; who could 
discriminate between the straightforward testimony and 
the suborned evidence ; who could see, plainly and readily, 
the justice or injustice of the accusation. 

It turns out this man who is free, unshackled, unpreju- 
diced ; who has no previous opinions to control the clear 
exercise of his duty. You do away with that which is 
more sacred than the throne itself, — that for which your 
king reigns, your lords deliberate, your commons assemble. 

If ever I doubted before of the success of our agitation 
for repeal, this bill, this infamous bill, the way in which it 
has been received by the house, the manner in which its 
opponents have been treated, the personalities to which 
they have been subjected, the yells with which one of 
them has this night been greeted, — all these things dis- 



132 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

sipate my doubts, and tell me of its complete and early 
triumph. 

Do you think those yells will be forgotten? Do you 
suppose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured 
and insulted country ; that they will not be whispered in 
her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills? 

Oh, they will be heard there ! Yes ; and they will not 
be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with 
indignation ; they will say, " We are eight millions ; and 
you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your 
country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey ! " 

I have done my duty ; I stand acquitted to my con- 
science and my country ; I have opposed this measure 
throughout ; and I now protest against it as harsh, oppres- 
sive, uncalled for, unjust, — as establishing an infamous 
precedent by retaliating crime against crime, — as tyran- 
nous, cruelly and vindictively tyrannous. 

— Daniel O'Connell. 



BEOTHER WATKINS 

[An illustration of "how not to do it." The singsong effect and the gasp 
(indicated by ah /) are faults which are admirably burlesqued in this clever 
parody. So, also, the exaggerated gestures of the ignorant speaker may be 
used with amusing effect.] 

A Southern divine, who had removed to a new field of 
labor, gave his flock some reminiscences of his former 
charge, as follows : — 

"My beloved brethering, before I take my text I must 
tell you about my parting with my old congregation. On 
the morning of last Sabbath I went into the meeting- 
house to preach my farewell discourse. Just in front of 
me sot the old fathers and mothers in Israel ; the tears 
coursed down their furrowed cheeks ; their tottering forms 



GESTURE 133 

and quivering lips breathed out a sad — fare ye well, 
brother Watkins — ah ! Behind them sot the middle-aged 
men and matrons ; health and vigor beamed from every 
countenance ; and as they looked up I could see in their 
dreamy eyes — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! Behind 
them sot the bo} r s and girls that I baptized and gathered 
into the Sabbath school. Many times they had been rude 
and boisterous, but now their merry laugh was hushed, 
and in the silence I could hear — fare ye ivell, brother 
Watkins — ah ! Around, on the back seats, and in the 
aisles, stood and sot the colored brethering, with their 
black faces and honest hearts, and as I looked upon them 
I could see a — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah ! When 
I had finished my discourse and shaken hands with the 
brethering — ah! I passed out to take a last look at the 
old church — ah ! the broken steps, the flopping blinds, 
and moss-covered roof, suggested only — fare ye well, 
brother Watkins — ah ! I mounted my old gray mare, with 
my earthly possessions in my saddlebags, and as I passed 
down the street the servant girls stood in the doors, and 
with their brooms waved me a — fare ye well, brother Wat- 
kins — ah! As I passed out of the village the low wind 
blew softly through the waving branches of the trees, and 
moaned — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! I came 
down to the creek, and as the old mare stopped to drink 
I could hear the water rippling over the pebbles a — fare 
ye well, brother Watkins — ah! And even the little fishes, 
as their bright fins glistened in the sunlight, I thought, 
gathered around to say, as best they could — fare ye well, 
brother Watkins — ah! I was slowly passing up the hill, 
meditating upon the sad vicissitudes and mutations of 
life, when suddenly out bounded a big hog from a fence 
corner, with aboo ! aboo ! and I came to the ground with 



134 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

my saddlebags by my side. As I lay in the dust of the 
road my old gray mare run up the hill, and as she turned 
the top she waved her tail back at me, seemingly to say — 
fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah ! I tell you, my brether- 
ing, it is affecting times to part with a congregation you 
have been with for over thirty years — ah ! " 



CHAPTER XII 

DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 

MENTAL PROCESSES 

As we have seen, logical expression deals principally 
with facts, events, and the relations of ideas. Description 
endeavors to reproduce or image forth things. Practice 
in descriptive reading stimulates our powers of observa- 
tion rather than of reasoning, or of mere abstract knowl- 
edge. The higher forms of description do more than 
help us to see things ; they help us to gain insight into 
things, and especially to see beauty where at first we saw 
merely the thing. " Great Britain is an island off the 
continent of Europe " tells us a fact. But the following 
paragraph helps us to see a portion of it. It is Washing- 
ton Irving's description of his first view of our mother 
country : — 

" From that time until the period of arrival it was all fever- 
ish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like guardian 
giants around the coast ; the headlands of Ireland, stretching 
out into the channel: the Welsh mountains, towering into the 
clouds, — all were objects of intense interest. As we sailed up 
the Mersey, I recoimoitered the shores with a telescope. My 
eye dwelt with delight on neat cottages, with their trim shrub- 
beries and green grassplots. I saw the mouldering ruins of an 
abbey overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church 
rising from the brow of a neighboring hill ; all were character- 
istic of England." 

135 



136 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

But poetic description does still more for us. It awakens 
all sorts of noble or beautiful associations and emotions in 
connection with the object described. A great poet will 
give us more in a few words than an inferior author can 
put into pages. Compare, for instance, even Irving's de- 
lightful word pictures with one line from Shakespeare, — 

" England, bound in with the triumphant sea." 

In the introduction we illustrated the processes of im- 
aginative picturing. The more vividly we can see these 
mental images the better. Close your eyes and endeavor 
to recall some beautiful or exciting scene in your past 
experience, concentrating your mind upon it until each 
detail stands out vividly. Then take a similar scene in 
literature, and endeavor to bring it before your mind's 
eye in the same way. This process is sometimes called 
visualizing. There are those who can call up sounds in 
this way, others to whom the words "a rose" calls up 
not merely its appearance but a faint reminiscence of its 
perfume, or to whom the word " velvet " suggests its 
texture, "snowball" the chill as well as the size, shape, 
and solid pressure of it ; while almost any one can imagine 
something like the taste, or at least the pleasure of tasting, 
a favorite dish. The more perfectly one can recall all these 
sensations, the truer to nature will his descriptions of these 
things be. 

By way of example of imaginative analysis let us take 
the following, from Each and All : — 

" The delicate shells lay on the shore ; 
The bubble of the latest wave 
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave ; 
And the bellowing of the savage sea 
Greeted their safe escape to me," 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 137 

The mere facts may be stated in a few commonplace 
words : " As I walked on the beach 1 saw at my feet some 
pretty and fragile shells that had just been cast up by the 
waves." But even the dullest reader will feel that this 
does not excite his imagination as the poet's words did. 
And, as we realize this, we shall see why poetry, or indeed 
any form of imaginative literature, comes to be written 
at all. Is it not because the poet has a clearer vision of 
beauty than other people, and in his endeavor to make the 
vision as clear to others as to himself, he seizes on the 
words which most fully express or paint his ideas ? 

The first three lines call up an image of what all of us 
who live near the ocean have often seen, and what every 
one may easily imagine. But to make the picture com- 
plete, we must see more than the poet has put into words. 
Beyond the shore or beach we must see the ocean, above 
both sea and shore the blue sky, with perhaps a cloud 
here and there ; see the gulls soaring aloft, and niaybe 
catch a breath of the salt smell of the ocean. Certainly, 
we must hear in the next line, — 

" The bellowing of the savage sea," 

or we cannot realize the poet's thought that the ocean is 
some monster pursuing the delicate shell which just escapes 
being seized by the "retreating wave." We said above 
that words stood not only for things, but for feelings about 
things. The poet does not always put these feelings into 
words. He leaves them to be inferred. The picture 
which Emerson has given us here is a picture of loveli- 
ness enhanced by contrast with a background suggestive 
of savage, vindictive hate. Now, to realize the possibili- 
ties of this stanza, we must feel toward " the delicate 
shells " and " the savage sea " as he did. 



138 school SPEAKER 

At first wo love, or at least admire, the beauty of the 
scene. But our feeling toward the ocean must change to 
antagonism, because in this poem the waves are repre- 
sented with unlovely traits. Later in the poem, when the 
writer has fetched his " sea-born treasures home," they 
in turn become unlovely. 

" But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 
Had left their beauty on the shore 
With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar." 

Here the mood of the writer has changed, and the reader 
must feel the new emotions if he would render the lines 
as the poet conceived them. 

Such are some of the mental processes which must pre- 
cede the reading of descriptive prose or poetry. Some of 
us, who are gifted with vivid imaginations, will find it 
easy to reproduce in our own minds the pictures of another, 
but most of us will have difficulty in doing it at first. 
But the pleasure we shall take in re-creating a work of art 
step by step is almost as great as that of original compo- 
sition, and will more than repay us for our trouble. Even 
those of us who are seemingly devoid of creative imagina- 
tion may derive enjoyment from working out the problems 
of creative composition as one would solve a puzzle. An 
amusing, as well as useful, exercise is to draw a series of 
sketches of the objects described. The pictures need not 
have any artistic merit, but we should try to put in the 
foreground the important or emphatic elements, and have 
the rest more or less in the background. You will find, 
however, that the most beautiful verbal pictures cannot 
be drawn. They must be painted with sound and sug- 
gested by action. Where sounds are described, try to 
imagine that you hear them, as in the following example : 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 139 

Hear the sledges with the bells — silver bells — 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that oversprinkle 

All the heavens, seem to tinkle with a crystalline delight ; 
Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells — 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

— POE. 

SELECTIONS FOR DESCRIPTIVE ANALYSIS 

Analyze first for the most important picture, not nec- 
essarily the biggest, then for the subordinate pictures, 
then the background of each picture. Then seek for the 
poet's thoughts and feelings about the pictures. After- 
wards try to read them with the aid of the hints in the 
succeeding chapter. 

THE EAGLE 

He clasps the crag with hooked hands : 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 
Ringed with the azure world, he stands. 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; 
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 

— Tennyson. 



THE GLEN 

I know a sanctuary glen 

That lieth far away ; 
Its tenant pines respond " Amen ! " 

When strong winds plead or pray. 



140 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Within the glen a little pool 

Abideth still and lone, 
Constant and calm, content and cool — 

A font by an altar stone. 

Like Moslems all bowed low to pray 

Are the vines about its brink ; 
In its unsunned depths are trout at play ; 

At its margin wild birds drink. 

Oh, far away is the lonely glen, 

As my youth is far away, 
But I'd give the world to be there again, 

To be there again to-day ; 
I would lie and rest as a child rests when 

He is too tired to play. 

— Charlotte Whitcomb. 



THE FERRYMAN 

[" He who takes the devil in his ferryboat must row him across the sound." - 
Old English Proverb.] 

The boatman sate with brawny arms embrowned, 
Steadying the wherry as it rocked afloat : 
The " Dark Knight " came, and on his shield and coat 

Symbols of doom and hell's devices frowned. 

He leapt aboard. u Wilt row to Devil's Ground 

For gold? " The man sate dumb with choking throat. 
" Who finds the devil in his ferryboat 

Must row him," said his soul, "across the sound." 

To Devil's Ground he rowed, a sulphurous coast : 

" Alight," said then the knight, "'tis here we dwell." 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 141 

" Nay, Dark Knight, nay, though here my boat hath crossed, 
I asked thee not aboard." "Thou rowest well : 

Who ships the devil is not always lost, 

But lost is he who rows him home to Hell." 

— The Atheneum. 

THOSE EVENING BELLS 

Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time 
When last I heard their soothing chime ! 

Those joyous hours are passed away ; 
And many a heart that then was gay 
Within the tomb now darkly dwells, 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so 'twill be when I am gone, — 
That tuneful peal will still ring on ; 
While other bards shall walk these dells, 
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

— Thomas Moore. 

TRUE BEAUTY 

Oh ! talk as we may of beauty as a thing to be chiseled 
from marble or wrought out on canvas ; speculate as we 
may upon its colors and outlines, what is it but an intel- 
lectual abstraction, after all ? The heart feels a beauty of 
another kind ; looking through the outward environment, 
it discovers a deeper and more real loveliness. This was 
well understood by the old painters. In their pictures of 
Mary, the Virgin Mother, the beauty which melts and 



142 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

subdues the gazer is that of the soul and the affections, 
uniting the awe and mystery of that mother's miraculous 
allotment, with the irrepressible k>ve, the unutterable ten- 
derness of young maternity, — Heaven's crowning miracle, 
with Nature's holiest and sweetest instinct. 

Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman 
whom the world calls beautiful. Through its " silver veil" 
the evil and ungentle passions looked out hideous and hate- 
ful. On the other hand, there are faces which the multi- 
tude at the first glance pronounce homely, unattractive, 
and such as " Nature fashions by the gross," which I always 
recognize with a warm heart-thrill ; not for the world 
would I have one feature changed ; they please me as they 
are ; they are hallowed by kind memories ; they are beau- 
tiful through their associations ; nor are they any the less 
welcome that with my admiration of them " the stranger 
intermeddleth not." — Whittier. 



THE GRAY DAY 

Evermore all the days are long, and the cheerless skies are 
gray. 

Restlessly wander the baffling winds that scatter the blind- 
ing spray, 

And the drifting currents come and go like serpents across 
my way. 

Wearily fades the evening dim, drearily wears the night. 

The ghostly mists and the hurrying clouds and the break- 
ers' crests of white 

Have blotted the stars from the desolate skies, — have cur- 
tained them from my sight. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 143 

Speeding alone, my wave-tossed bark encounters no pass- 
ing sail. 

Welcoming friend nor challenging foe answers my eager 
hail, — 

Only the sobbing, unquiet waves and the wind's unceas- 
ing wail. 

Hopefully still my sails are bent, my pilot is faultlessly 

true. 
He holds my course as though the seas and the mirrored 

skies were blue, 
And the port of peace, where the winds are still, were 

evermore in view. 

For over the spray and the rain and the clouds shines the 

eternal sun ; 
The unchanging stars in the curtained dome still gleam 

when the day is done ; 
And the mists will be kissed from the laughing skies when 

the port of rest is won. 

— Robert J. Rurdette. 

AMBITION 

He who ascends to mountain tops shall find 
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; — 
He who surpasses or subdues mankind 
Must look down on the hate of those below. 
Though high above the sun of glory glow, 
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, 
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
Contending tempests on his naked head ; 
And thus reward the toils which to those summits led. 

— Byron. 



144 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EACH AND ALL 



Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, 

Of thee from the hilltop looking down ; 

And the heifer that lows in the upland farm, 

Far heard, lows not thine ear to charm; 

The sexton, tolling the bell at noon, 

Deems not that great Napoleon 

Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 

Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height ; 

Nor knowest thou what argument 

Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 

All are needed by each one ; 

Nothing is fair or good alone. 

I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 
Singing at dawn on the alderbough ; 
I brought him home, in his nest, at even ; 
He sings the song, but it pleases not now, 
For I did not bring home the river and sky ; — 
He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye. 

The delicate shells lay on the shore ; 

The bubbles of the latest wave 

Fresh pearls to their enamel gave ; 

And the bellowing of the savage sea 

Greeted their safe escape to me. 

I wiped away the weeds and foam, 

And fetched my sea-born treasures home; 

But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 

Had left their beauty on the shore, 

With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 145 

The lover watched his graceful maid, 

As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, 

Nor knew her beauty's best attire 

Was woven still by the snow-white quire. 

At last she came to his hermitage, 

Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage ; — 

The gay enchantment was undone, 

A gentle wife, but fairy none. 

Then I said, " I covet truth ; 

Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat ; 

I leave it behind with the games of youth." — 

As I spoke, beneath my feet 

The ground pine curled its pretty wreath, 

Running over the club moss burs ; 

I inhaled the violet's breath ; 

Around me stood the oaks and firs ; 

Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground ; 

Over me soared the eternal sky, 

Full of light and of deity ; 

Again I saw, again I heard, 

The rolling river, the morning bird; — 

Beauty through my senses stole; 

I yielded myself to the perfect whole. 

— Emerson 

AVE MARIA 

A Breton Legend 

In the ages of faith, before the day 
When men were too proud to weep or pray, 
There stood in a red-roofed Breton town, 
Snugly nestled 'twixt sea and down, 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 10 



14G SCHOOL SPEAKER 

A chapel for simple souls to meet, 

Nightly, and sing with voices sweet, — "Ave Maria! " 

There was an idiot, palsied, bleared, 

With unkempt locks and a matted beard, 

Hunched from the cradle, vacant-eyed, 

And whose head kept rolling from side to side, 

Yet who, when the sunset glow grew dim, 

Joined with the rest in the twilight hymn, — "Ave Maria! " 

One year when the harvest feasts were done, 

And the mending of tattered nets begun, 

And the seabird's scream took a more weird key, 

From the wailing wind and moaning sea, 

He was found at morn on the fresh-strewn snow, 

Frozen and faint and crooning low, — " Ave Maria! " 

They stirred up the ashes between the dogs, 

And warmed his limbs by the blazing logs ; 

Chafed his puckered and bloodless skin, 

And strove to quiet his chattering chin ; 

But ebbing, with unreturning tide, 

He kept on murmuring, till he died, — "Ave Maria! " 

Idiot, soulless, brute from birth, 

He could not be buried in sacred earth, 

So they laid him afar, apart, alone, 

Without a cross, or a turf, or a stone ; 

Senseless clay unto senseless clay! 

To which none ever came nigh to say, — "Ave Maria! " 

When the meads grew saffron, the hawthorns white, 
And the lark bore his music out of sight, 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 147 

And the swallow outracecl the racing wave, 

[Jp from the lonely outcast grave 

Sprouted a lily, straight and high! 

Such as she bears to whom men cry, — "Ave Maria! " 

None had planted it! no one knew 

How it had come there, why it grew! 

Grew up strong till its stately stem 

Was crowned with a snow-white diadem — 

One pure lily, round which, behold ! 

Was written by God in veins of gold, — " Ave Maria! " 

Over the lily they built a shrine, 

Where are mingled th' Mystic bread and wine ; 

The shrine you may see in the little town 

That is snugly nestled 'twixt deep and down ; 

Through the Breton land it hath wondrous fame, 

And it bears the unshriven idiot's name. — "Ave Maria! " 

Hunchbacked, gibbering, blear-eyed, halt, 

From forehead to footstep one foul fault, 

Crazy, contorted, mindless born, 

The gentles' pity, the cruels' scorn, — 

Who shall bar you the gates of day ? 

So you have simple faith to say, — " Ave Maria ! " 

— Alfred Austin. 



CHAPTER XIII 

DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 

TECHNIQUE 

The object of descriptive expression is to assist the 
imagination of the audience, to make them see, or at least 
understand, more clearly what we describe. When, for 
instance, we measure with our hands, saying, "It was so 
long," or "so high," we are making use of the simplest 
form of descriptive gesture. Gestures of Indication (p. 119) 
are descriptive. Expressive actions which aim to repro- 
duce literally the things described are termed Imitative. 
For instance, if we say, " He was bent double," and bend 
the body so as to look like the person, or if we say, " He 
spoke in a voice of thunder," using a loud or rumbling 
voice, it is Imitation. 

It will be readily seen that the field of imitation and 
literal description is limited. We cannot reproduce the 
roar of Niagara or the " bellowing of the savage sea," nor 
can we give the dimensions of a mountain, or even of an 
oak. But we can suggest these things, either by action 
which conveys a general idea of vastness, or by intonation 
which seems suited to the subject or which has some one 
salient quality of the thing described. For instance, in 
describing a crouching tiger, one would certainly not go 
on all fours, but he might, by the sinister gleam of the 
eye and the expression of the face, with slight clutching 

148 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 149 

movements of the hand, and by the quality of the voice, 
suggest the cruel, bloodthirsty nature of the beast. 

Again, as will be seen from the example just given, 
imitation is apt to be ridiculous if applied to serious 
matters. The more ideal the selection, the more delicately 
suggestive should be the description. 

VOCAL SUGGESTION 

The voice suggests various qualities of objects by 
rhythm, pitch, volume, and " color," that is, kind of tone. 
Thus, grandeur, vastness, sublimity, and solemnity can 
not be adequately expressed by high pitch, or thin tones ; 
while delicacy, daintiness, and like qualities are expressed 
in light tones. The distinction between the " delicate 
shell " and " the bellowing of the savage sea " could 
hardly be made without corresponding vocal shading. 
Vocal suggestion is one of the most effective means of 
awakening the imagination of the auditor. Avoid over- 
doing your tone pictures, however, and especially do not 
sacrifice inflection to vocal suggestion. That is, keep ex- 
actly the same inflection you would use in the most com- 
monplace, unimaginative speech. Inflection shows the 
relation of the speaker to his audience, or of the speaker's 
ideas to one another. If the natural inflection is lost, all 
naturalness disappears. 

The size of objects is often suggested by rhythm. 
Grandeur and sublimity have slow movement, while triv- 
iality or brightness are spoken more "trippingly on the, 
tongue." In connection with this read over what was 
said under The Melody of Emphasis, page 27. 

One of the strongest means of suggestion is to present 
not the object, but its effect on the speaker. 



150 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

There is a story of a simple fellow who was taken to 
see Hamlet and could not be persuaded that the ghost 
was not real, because the "little chap who played Hamlet 
was so frightened." It is a common fault in describing 
fearful things to look terrible instead of terrified ; but the 
latter is what an artist would do. So, it is hard to per- 
suade your audience that a scene is beautiful, if you 
yourself do not show admiration for it. The most perfect 
description exhibits both the thing spoken of and its effect on 
the speaker. 

RULES FOR DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 

Place your pictures obliquely in front, that is, a little to 
one side or the other. In all other respects (distance, 
height, depth, etc.) act toward these images as if they 
were actually present. 

In describing scenes or events do not talk to the scenes, 
but to the audience. That is, look at the picture first, 
then tell about it to the audience. If you use gestures of 
indication the hand may retain its relation to the picture 
when the eye leaves it. Avoid description or imitation 
when the words themselves are sufficient for the purpose. 

Descriptive action of any sort is effective only when it 
enhances the verbal expression, that is, supplies what is 
called Ellipsis. In the following selection from As You 
Like It, the fun is greatly enhanced by depicting the 
schoolboy's unwilling manner in face and attitude, the 
lover's sentimental attitude, perhaps with the hand on 
the heart, the fierce-browed soldier with hand on sword, 
the justice's self-satisfied pomposity, and so on. But 
notice that the "last scene of all," like the first, will be 
most effective if presented with our feeling about it pre- 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 151 

dominating. In giving this selection we should also bear 
in mind that the words are put in the mouth of the 
" melancholy Jaques, " who is a most cynical, dissatisfied 
person, and who therefore will give a touch of caricature 
to the Avhole description. This element of humorous 
exaggeration gives us greater scope for vocal picturing. 



SEVEN AGES OF MAN 
[Imitation.] 

All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players ; 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
Sighing like furnace, Avith a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier, 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances ; 
And so he plays his part ; the sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 



152 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, — 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

— Shakespeare, As You Like It. 

In the succeeding selections, we shall find less and less 
of the literal and more of the suggestive required as we 
proceed. 

ode for st. Cecilia's day 

[Vocal suggestion.] 

From harmony, from heavenly harmony, 

This universal frame began ! — 
When nature underneath a heap 
Of jarring atoms lay, 

And could not heave her head, 
The tuneful voice was heard from high, 

" Arise ye more than dead! " 
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, 

In order to their stations leap, 
And Music's power obey. 

From harmony, from heavenly harmony, 

This universal frame began ; 

From harmony to harmony, 
Through all the compass of the notes it ran, 
The diapason closing full in man. 

What passion cannot music raise and quell ? 
When Jubal struck the chordecl shell, 
His listening brethren stood around, 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 153 

And, wondering, on their faces fell 

To worship that celestial sound. 
Less than a god they thought there could not dwell 

Within the hollow of that shell, 

That spoke so sweetly and so well. 
What passion cannot music raise and quell? 

The trumpet's loud clangor 

Excites us to arms, 
With shrill notes of anger, 

And mortal alarms. 
The double, double, double beat 

Of the thundering drum, 

Cries, " Hark ! the foes come ; 
Charge, charge ! 'tis too late to retreat." 

The soft complaining flute 

In dying notes discovers 

The woes of hapless lovers, 
Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. 

Sharp violins proclaim 

Their jealous pangs, and desperation, 

Fury, frantic indignation, 
Depths of pain and height of passion. 
For the fair disdainful dame. 

But, O ! what art can teach, 
What human voice can reach, 

The sacred organ's praise ! i 

Notes inspiring holy love, 
Notes that wing their heavenly ways 
To mend the choirs above. 
Orpheus could lead the savage race ; 



154 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And trees uprooted left their place, 

Sequacious of the lyre ; 
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher ; 
When to her organ vocal breath was given. 
An angel heard, and straight appeared, 
Mistaking earth for heaven. 

— Dryde.n. 

MY GRANDMOTHER'S FAN 
[Imitative action.] 

It owned not the color that vanity dons 

Or slender wits choose for display ; 
Its beautiful tint was a delicate bronze, 

A brown softly blended with gray. 
From her waist to her chin, spreading out without break, 

'Twas built on a generous plan ; 
The pride of the forest was slaughtered to make 

My grandmother's turkey-tail fan. 

For common occasions it never was meant : 

In a chest between two silken cloths 
'Twas kept safely hidden with careful intent 

In camphor to keep out the moths. 
'Twas famed far and wide through the whole countryside, 

From Beersheba e'en unto Dan; 
And often at meeting with envy 'twas eyed, 

My grandmother's turkey-tail fan. 

Camp meetings, indeed, were its chiefest delight, 

Like a crook unto sheep gone astray 
It beckoned backsliders to re-seek the right, 

And exhorted the sinners to pray. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 155 

It always beat time when the choir went wrong, 

Psalmody leading the van. 
Old Hundred, I know, was its favorite song — 

My grandmother's turkey- tail fan. 

A fig for the fans that are made nowadays, 

Suited only to frivolous mirth ! 
A different thing was the fan that I praise, 

Yet it scorned not the good things of earth. 
At bees and at quiltings 'twas aye to be seen ; 

The best of the gossip began 
When in at the doorway had entered serene 

My grandmother's turkey-tail fan. 

Tradition relates of it wonderful tales. 

Its handle of leather was buff. 
Though shorn of its glory, e'en now it exhales 

An odor of hymn books and snuff. 
Its primeval grace, if you like, you can trace, 

'Twas limned for the future to scan, 
Just under a smiling, gold-spectacled face, 

My grandmother's turkey-tail fan. 

— Samuel Minturn Peck. 



HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS 
[Description.] 

King Henry. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, 
once more ; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, 
As modest stillness and humility : 



156 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Hut when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'cl rage, 

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head, 

Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, 

As fearfully as doth a galled rock 

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base 

Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 

To his full height. — On, on you noblest English, 

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof, 

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 

Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 

Dishonor not your mothers : now attest, 

That those, whom you called fathers did beget you : 

Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 

And teach them how to war ! — and you good yeomen, 

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 

The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not, 

For there is none of you so mean and base, 

That hath not noble luster in your eyes. 

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 

Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 

Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 

Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint George ! 

— Shakespeare, King Henry V. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 157 



FROM HOKATIUS 

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, right glorious to behold, 
came flashing back the noonday light, rank behind rank, 
like surges bright of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred 
trumpets sounded a peal of warlike glee, as that great 
host, with measured tread, and spears advanced, and en- 
signs spread, rolled slowly toward the bridge's head, where 
stood the dauntless Three. The Three stood calm and 
silent and looked upon the foes ; and a great shout of 
laughter from all the vanguard rose ; and forth three 
chiefs came spurring before that deep array ; to earth they 
sprang, their swords they drew and lifted high their 
shields, and flew to win the narrow way. Stout Lartius 
hurled down Aunus into the stream beneath : Herminius 
struck at Seius and clove him to the teeth : at Picus brave 
Horatius darted one fiery thrust ; and the proud Um- 
brian's gilded arms clashed in the bloody dust. But hark ! 
the cry is " Astur ! " : and lo ! the ranks divide ; and the 
great Lord of Luna comes with his stately stride. Upon 
his ample shoulder clangs loud the fourfold shield, and in 
his hand he shakes the brand that none but he may wield. 

He smiled on those bold Romans, — a smile serene and 
high ; he eyed the flinching Tuscans and scorn was in his 
eye. Quoth he : " The she- wolf's litter stands savagely at 
bay ; but will ye dare to follow if Astur clears the way ? " 
Then, whirling up his broadsword with both hands to 
the height, he rushed upon Horatius and smote with all 
his might. With shield and blade Horatius right deftly 
turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too 
nigh ; it missed his helm, but gashed his thigh ; the Tus- 
cans raised a joyful cry to see the red blood flow. He 
reeled, and on Herminius leaned for one breathing space, 



158 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, sprang right at 
Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, so 
fierce a thrust he sped, the good sword stood a hand's 
breadth out behind the Tuscan's head ; and the great Lord 
of Luna fell at that deadly stroke as falls on Mount Al- 
vernus a thunder-smitten oak. 

On Astur's throat Horatius right firmly pressed his 
heel, and thrice and four times tugged amain, ere he drew 
out the steel. And " see," he cried, " the welcome, fair 
friends, that waits you here ! What noble' Lucumo comes 
next to taste our Roman cheer ? " 

But at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran, 
mingled of wrath and shame and dread, along that glit- 
tering van : and from the ghastly entrance where those 
bold Romans stood, all shrank, like boys, who unaware, 
ranging the woods to start a hare, come to the mouth of 
the dark lair where, growling low, a fierce old bear lies 
amidst bones and blood. Was none who would be fore- 
most to lead such dire attack : but those behind cried 
" Forward ! " and those before cried " Back ! " And 
backward now and forward wavers the deep array ; and 
on the tossing sea of steel, to and fro the standards reel, 
and the victorious trumpet peal dies fitfully away. 

— T. B. Macaulay. 



THE PETRIFIED FERN 

[Delicate suggestion.] 

In a valley, centuries ago, 

Grew a little fern leaf, green and slender, 
Veining delicate and fibers tender ; 

Waving when the wind crept down so low. 

Rushes tall, and moss, and grass grew round it, 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 159 

Playful sunbeams darted in and found it, 
Drops of dew stole in by night, and crowned it, 
But no foot of man e'er trod that way ; 
Earth was young, and keeping holiday. 

Monster fishes swam the silent main, 

Stately forests waved their giant branches, 
Mountains hurled their snowy avalanches, 

Mammoth creatures stalked across the plain ; 
Nature reveled in grand mysteries, 
But the little fern was not of these, 
Did not number with the hills and trees; 
Only grew and waved its wild sweet way, 
None ever came to note it day by day. 

Earth one time put on a frolic mood, 

Heaved the rocks and changed the mighty motion 

Of the deep, strong currents of the ocean, 
Moved the plain and shook the haughty wood, 

Crushed the little fern in soft moist clay, — 

Covered it, and hid it safe away. 

Oh, the long, long centuries since that day ! 

Oh, the agony ! Oh, life's bitter cost, 

Since that useless little fern was lost ! 

Useless ? Lost ? There came a thoughtful man, 

Searching Nature's secrets, far and deep ; 

From a fissure in a rocky steep 
He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran 

Fairy pencilings, a quaint design, 

Veinings, leafage, fibers clear and fine, 

And the fern's life lay in every line ! 

So, I think, God hides some souls away, 

Sweetly to surprise us, the last day. 



160 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

THE NIGHTS 

[Emotions.] 

O the Summer Night, has a smile of light, 

And she sits on a sapphire throne ; 
While the sweet winds load her, with garlands of odor, 

From the bud to the rose o'erblown ! 

But the Autumn Night has a piercing sight, 

And a step both strong and free ; 
And a voice for wonder, like the wrath of the thunder, 

When he shouts to the stormy sea ! 

And the Winter Night is all cold and white, 

And she singeth a song of pain ; 
Till the wild bee hummeth, and the warm spring cometh, 

Then she dies in a night of rain. 

Night bringeth sleep to the forests deep, 

The forest bird to its nest ; 
To care, bright hours, and dreams of flowers, 

And that balm to the weary, — Rest. 

— Adelaide Procter. 



THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS 

[We may imitate the slow tick-tock of the clock here, but the expression 
should also he varied with the emotion called up in each stanza.] 

Somewhat back from the village street 
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat ; 
Across its antique portico 
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw ; 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 161 

And, from its station in the hall, 
An ancient timepiece says to all, 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

Halfway up the stairs it stands, 
And points and beckons with its hands 
From its case of massive oak, 
Like a monk who, under his cloak, 
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! 
With sorrowful voice to all who pass, 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

By day its voice is low and light ; 
But in the silent dead of night, 
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, 
It echoes along the vacant hall, 
Along the ceiling, along the floor, 
And seems to say at each chamber door, 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

Through days of sorrow and of mirth, 
Through days of death and days of birth, 
Through every swift vicissitude 
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, 
And as if, like God, it all things saw, 
It calmly repeats those words of awe, 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

In that mansion used to be 
Free-hearted hospitality ; 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 11 



102 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

His great fires up the chimney roared, 
The stranger feasted at his board ; 
But like the skeleton at the feast, 
That warning timepiece never ceased, — 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

There groups of merry children played, 
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed . 
Oh, precious hours ! oh, golden prime ! 
And affluence of love and time ! 
Even as a miser counts his gold, 
Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

From that chamber, clothed in white, 
The bride came forth on her wedding night ; 
There in that silent room below, 
The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; 
And in the hush that followed the prayer, 
Was heard the old clock on the stair, — 
"Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

All are scattered now and fled, 
Some are married, some are dead ; 
And when I ask with throbs of pain, - — 
" Ah ! when shall they all meet again? " 
As in the days long since gone by, 
The ancient timepiece makes reply, — 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 163 

Never here, forever there, 
Where all parting, pain, and care 
And death and time shall disappear, 
Forever there, but never here ! 
The horologe of eternity 
Sayeth this incessantly, — 
" Forever — never ! 
Never — forever ! " 

— Longfellow. 



THE DAY IS DONE 

[Reflection, delicate suggestion, and gentle emotions. Be careful not to 
confuse feelings with pictures.] 

The day is done, and the darkness 

Falls from the wings of Night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 

From an eagle in his flight. 

I see the lights of the village 

Gleam through the rain and the mist, 

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me 
That my soul cannot resist : 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 
And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain. 

Come, read to me some poem, 

Some simple and heartfelt lay, 
That shall soothe this restless feeling, 

And banish the thoughts of day. 



164 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Not from the grand old masters, 

Not from the bards sublime, 
Whose distant footsteps echo 

Through the corridors of Time. 

For, like strains of martial music, 
Their mighty thoughts suggest 

Life's endless toil and endeavor ; 
And to-night I long for rest. 

Read from some humbler poet, 

Whose songs gushed from his heart, 

As showers from the clouds of summer, 
Or tears from the eyelids start ; 

Who, through long days of labor, 

And nights devoid of ease, 
Still heard in his soul the music 

Of wonderful melodies. 

Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
And come like the benediction 

That follows after prayer. 

Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice. 

And the night shall be filled with music, 
And the cares, that infest the day, 

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away. 

— Longfellow. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 165 



THE SKY 

It is a strange thing how little in general people know 
about the sky, and yet there is not a moment of any day 
of our lives, when Nature is not producing scene after 
scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, working 
upon exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect 
beauty. And every man, wherever placed, however far 
from other sources of interest or of beauty, has this doing 
for him constantly. Yet, if in our moments of utter idle- 
ness and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a last resource, 
which of its phenomena do we speak of? One says, it has 
been wet ; and another, it has been windy ; and another, 
it has been warm. Who among the whole chattering 
crowd can tell one of the forms and the precipices of the 
chain of tall white mountains that girded the horizon at 
noon yesterday ? Who saw the narrow sunbeam that 
came out of the south, and smote upon their summits 
until they melted and molclered away in the dust of blue 
rain ? Who saw the dance of the dead clouds where the 
sunlight left them last night, and the west wind blew 
them before it like withered leaves? All has passed unre- 
gretted as unseen ; or if the apathy be ever shaken off 
even for an instant, it is only by what is gross, or what is 
extraordinary. And yet it is not in the broad and fierce 
manifestations of the elemental energies, nor in the clash 
of the hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the high- 
est characters of the sublime are developed. God is not 
in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still small 
voice. They are but the blunt and the low faculties of 
our nature which can be addressed only through lamp- 
black and lightning. It is in quiet and unsubdued pas- 
sages of unobtrusive majesty, the deep and the calm, and 



166 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

the perpetual; that which must be sought ere it is seen, 

and loved ere it is understood ; things which the angels 

work out for us daily, and yet vary eternally ; which are 

never wanting, and never repeated, which are to be 

found always, yet each found but once ; it is through 

these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught, and the 

blessing of beauty given. 

— Arranged from Ruskin. 



BUGLE SONG 

[Listen to the tones and see the pictures, but do not imitate either.] 

The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits old in story ; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying : 
Blow, bugle : answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going ; 
O sweet and far, from cliff and scar, 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O love, they die in yon rich sky, 

They faint on hill or field or river : 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

— Tennyson. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 167 



FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ; 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, 
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, 
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, 
Far niark'd with the courses of clear winding rills ; 
There daily I wander as noon rises high, 
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 

How pleasant thy banks, and green valleys below, 
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow ; 
There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea, 
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. 

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 

And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; 

How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 

As, gathering sweet flow'rets, she stems thy clear wave. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ; 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 

— Robert Burns. 



168 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

THE CLOUDS 

[An excellent study in suggestive indications.] 

Has the reader any distinct idea of what clouds are ? 

That mist which lies in the morning so softly in the 
valley, level and white, through which the tops of the 
trees rise as if through an inundation — why is it so 
heavy, and why does it lie so low, being yet so thin and 
frail that it will melt away utterly into splendor of morn- 
ing when the sun has shone on it but a few moments 
more? Those colossal pyramids, huge and firm, with 
outlines as of rocks, and strength to bear the beating 
of the high sun full on their fiery flanks, — why are 
they so light, their bases high over our heads, high 
over the heads of Alps ? Why will these melt away, 
not as the sun rises, but as he descends, and leave the 
stars of twilight clear ; while the valley vapor gains 
again upon the earth, like a shroud? Or that ghost 
of a cloud, which steals by yonder clump of pines; nay, 
which does not steal by them, but haunts them, wreathing 
yet round them, and yet, — and yet, — slowly; now falling 
in a fair waved line like a woman's veil; now fading, now 
gone; we look away for an instant, and look back, and it 
is again there. What has it to do with that clump of 
pines, that it broods by them, and waves itself among 
their branches, to and fro ? Has it hidden a cloudy treas- 
ure among the moss at their roots, which it watches thus ? 
Or has some strong enchanter charmed it into fond re- 
turning, or bound it fast within those bars of bough ? And 
yonder filmy crescent, bent like an archer's bow above the 
snowy summit, the highest of all the hills — that white 
arch which never forms but over the supreme crest, — how 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 169 

it is stayed there, repelled apparently from the snow, — 
nowhere touching it, the clear sky seen between it and the 
mountain edge, yet never leaving it — poised as a white 
bird hovers over its nest! Or those war clouds that gather 
on the horizon, dragon-crested, tongued with fire, — how 
is their barbed strength bridled ? What bits are those 
they are champing with their vaporous lips, flinging off 
flakes of black foam ? Leagued leviathans of the Sea of 
Heaven, — out of their nostrils goeth smoke, and their 
eyes are like the eyelids of the morning; the sword of 
him that layeth at them cannot hold the spear, the dart, 
nor the habergeon. Where ride the captains of their 
armies ? Where are set the measures of their march ? 
Fierce murmurers, answering each other from morning 
until evening — what rebuke is this which has awed them 
into peace; — what hand has reined them back by the way 
in which they came ? — Ruskin. 

THE CLOUD 

[Vocal expression principally.] 

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 

From the seas and the streams ; 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 

In their noonday dreams. 
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 

The sweet birds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, 

As she dances about the sun. 
I wield the flail of the lashing hail, 

And whiten the green plains under ; 
And then again I dissolve it in rain, 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 



170 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I sift the snow on the mountains below, 

And their great pines groan aghast ; 
And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 

While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers, 

Lightning, my pilot, sits ; 
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, 

It struggles and howls by fits ; 
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 

This pilot is guiding me, 
Lured by the love of the genii that move 

In the depths of the purple sea ; 
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 

Over the lakes and the plains, 
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, 

The spirit he loves remains ; 
And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, 

Whilst he is dissolving in rains. 

The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 

And his burning plumes outspread, 
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack 

When the morning star shines dead ; 
As on the jag of a mountain crag, 

Which an earthquake rocks and swings, 
An eagle alit one moment may sit 

In the light of its golden wings. 
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 

Its ardors of rest and of love, 
And the crimson pall of eve may fall 

From the depth of heaven above, 
With wings folded I rest on my airy nest, 

As still as a brooding dove. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 171 

That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, 

Whom mortals call the moon, 
Glides glimmering o'er my fleecelike floor, 

By the midnight breezes strewn; 
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 

Which only the angels hear, 
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 

The stars peep behind her and peer ; 
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, 

Like a swarm of golden bees, 
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 

Till the calm river, lakes, and seas, 
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, 

Are each paved with the moon and these. 

I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, 

And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, 

When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
From cape to cape, with a bridgelike shape, 

Over a torrent sea, 
Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof, 

The mountains its columns be. 
The triumphal arch through which I march, 

With hurricane, fire, and snow, 
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, 

Is the million-colored bow ; 
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove, 

While the moist earth was laughing below. 

I am the daughter of the earth and water, 
And the nursling of the sky ; 



172 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; 

I change, but I cannot die. 
For after the rain, when, with never a stain, 

The pavilion of heaven is bare, 
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams, 

Build up the blue dome of air, 
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, 

And out of the caverns of rain, 

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, 

I arise and unbuild it again. 

— Shelley. 

MUSIC 

[In this and the succeeding selections try to feel rather than to picture.] 

Lorenzo. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this 
bank! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims : 
Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. — 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ! 

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 

And draw her home with music. [Music. 






DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 173 

Jessica. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lorenzo. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, 
Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 
By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; 
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no music in himself, 
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus : 
Let no such man be trusted. 

— Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice. 



SAILING THE MISSISSIPPI AT MIDNIGHT 

Vast and starless, the pall of heaven 
Laps on the trailing pall below ; 

And forward, forward in solemn darkness, 
As if to the sea of the lost we go. 

Now, drawn nigh the edge of the river, 
Weirdlike creatures suddenly rise ; 

Shapes that fade, dissolving outlines 
Baffle the gazer's straining eyes. 



174 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

Towering upward and bending forward, 
Wild and wide their arms are thrown, 

Ready to pierce with forked fingers 
Him who touches their realm upon. 

Tide of youth, thus thickly planted, 
While in the eddies onward you swim, 

Thus on the shore stands a phantom army, 
Lining forever the channel's rim. 

Steady, helmsman ! you guide the immortal ; 

Many a wreck is beneath you piled, 
Many a brave yet unwary sailor 

Over these waters has been beguiled. 

Nor is it the storm or the scowling midnight, 
Cold, or sickness, or fire's dismay — 

Nor is it the reef, or treacherous quicksand, 
Will peril you most on your twisted way. 

But when there comes a voluptuous languor, 

Soft the sunshine, silent the air, 
Bewitching your craft with safety and sweetness, 

Then, young pilot of life, beware. 

— Walt Whitman. 

THANATOPSIS 

To him who, in the love of Nature, holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language : for his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
Into his darker musings, with a mild 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 175 

And healing sympathy, that steals away 

Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts 

Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, 

Go forth under the open sky, and list 

To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 

Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 

Comes a still voice — Yet a few days, and thee 

The all-beholding sun shall see no more 

In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ; 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 

To mix forever with the elements ; 

To be a brother to the insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting place 

Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 

With patriarchs of the infant world, — with kings, 

The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, 

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, 

All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills, 

Rock ribbed, and ancient as the sun ; the vales 

Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 






176 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The venerable woods ; rivers that move 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks, 

That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, 

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 

Are but the solemn decorations all 

Of the great tomb of man! . . . 

... As the long train 

Of ages glides away, the sons of men — 

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 

In the full strength of years, matron and maid, 

And the sweet babe and the gray -headed man — 

Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 

By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live, that when thy summons comes, to join 
The innumerable caravan, that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

— Bryant. Abridged. 

BEAUTY 

[Proem to Endymion.] 

A thing of beauty is a joy forever ; 
Its loveliness increases ; it will never 
Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 



DESCRIPTIVE EXPRESSION 177 

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing 
A flowery band to bind us to the earth, 
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth 
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, 
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darken'd ways 
Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all, 
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall 
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, 
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 
For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils 
With the green world they live in ; and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season ; the mid-forest brake, 
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk rose blooms : 
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 
We have imagined for the mighty dead ; 
All lovely tales that we have heard or read : 
An endless fountain of immortal drink, 
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. 

Nor do we merely feel these essences 
For one short hour ; no, even as the trees 
That whisper round a temple become soon 
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, 
The passion poesy, glories infinite, 
Haunt us till they become a cheering light 
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast, 
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast, 
They alway must be with us, or we die. 

— Keats. 

sou. sch. spea. — 12 



178 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

TO A WATERFOWL 
Bryant 

Whither, 'midst falling cleAV, while glow the heavens 
with the last steps of day, far, through their rosy depths, 
dost thou pursue thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's 
eye might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, as, 
darkly painted on the crimson sky, thy figure floats along. 

Seek'st thou the plashy brink of weedy lake, or marge 
of river wide, or where the rocking billows rise and sink, 
on the chafed ocean side ? There is a Power whose care 
teaches thy way along that pathless coast, the desert and 
illimitable air — lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned, at that far height, the 
cold thin atmosphere, yet stoop not, weary, to the wel- 
come land, though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end ; soon shalt thou find a 
summer home, and rest, and scream among thy fellows ; 
reeds shall bend, soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. 

Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven hath swallowed up 
thy form ; yet, on my heart deeply hath sunk the lesson 
thou hast given, and shall not soon depart. He who, 
from zone to zone, guides through the boundless sky thy 
certain flight, in the long way that I must tread alone 
will lead my steps aright. 



CHAPTER XIV 

DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 

By Dramatic Expression we mean not merely stage 
representation, but any exhibition of human feelings or 
actions. When, for instance, in reading a poem like 
" Lady Clare," we have occasion to speak in the character 
of another, and especially to present the emotions of 
another or even to simulate feeling on our own account, 
our expression may be said to be dramatic. 

Oratory, as we have seen, is addressed directly to the 
audience and has for its object to move others by direct 
appeal to their reason or sympathies. Dramatic expres- 
sion, on the contrary, appeals indirectly, by exhibiting our 
own feelings, or those of the person we represent. Where 
we deliberately assume another character than our own we 
are said to impersonate. 

In reading scenes from plays we assume each character 
in turn, suggesting, but not imitating too closely, the vari- 
ous personages. Narration is usually a combination of the 
oratorical and the dramatic styles. In dialogue or other 
forms of dramatic literature, where two or more different 
individuals take part, of course each impersonates to the 
best of his ability. 

The greatest difference between dramatic and oratorical 
action is in this : that in dramatic expression, revealing as 
it does the feelings of the speaker, our gestures, instead of 
reaching out toward the audience, are more frequently 

179 



180 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

directed toward either the objects exciting our feelings or 
toward our own selves. In emotional expression the hand 
more frequently seeks the heart, the lips, the brow, the 
eyes, or whatever part is supposed to be most deeply 
affected. 

Elocutionists often fail not only on the stage but in 
dramatic reading from not realizing this essential differ- 
ence in the relations of speaker and audience. 

See also what was said under The Eye and Face in 
Reading (p. 51). 

EMOTIONAL EXPRESSION 

It is very difficult to lay down rules for the vocal expres- 
sion of emotion. What has been said under Breathing and 
with regard to the imagination applies to dramatic expres- 
sion also. Practice in expressive attitudes is of great help 
in acquiring genuine feeling. The range of youthful 
experience is necessarily limited, and many emotions 
cannot be expressed by young people as they will be in 
after years, so we must be content with approximation to 
the deeper feelings. It should be noted carefully, how- 
ever, that the greatest and most common fault in emotional 
expression is undue physical exertion. This is true even 
of the harsher feelings. Emotion is an agitation of the 
inner, not of the outer, man, and the parts most affected 
are not the external muscles, but the internal organs such 
as the heart, the liver, the tear glands. Excitement of 
any sort causes an overflow of nerve force from the brain. 
It must find an outlet somewhere, just like steam or elec- 
tricity. If this overflow is directed into the external 
muscles, we have muscular tension, over gesticulation, 
noise, and rant. If, however, we will to keep our external 



DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 181 

muscles as passive as possible, this nerve force is compelled 
to seek another outlet and flows into the emotional chan- 
nels. The result is a more genuine expression of feeling. 

It is well, also, to concentrate expression on the emphatic 
word, striving to make the rest relatively unemotional, and 
to reserve emotional expression for climaxes. Nothing is 
more fatiguing to speaker or audience than a constant 
succession of dramatic outbursts. In emotional expression 
remember that the emphatic word is the one that most com- 
pletely expresses the emotion, not necessarily, as in logical 
expression, that which reveals the thought. 

The best rule for attaining true emotional expression is, 
to feel more strongly on the emphatic word, rather than try 
to make others feel. 

Practice the following selections for emotion. Keep 
the body as passive as possible, but breathe deeply and 
frequently. Use gestures and change your attitude accord- 
ing to your feeling, but keep on the retired foot as much 
as possible. That attitude best enables us to gather in 
and concentrate feeling. Have as great volume as is con- 
sistent with the emotion to be expressed. The sound of 
one's own voice often acts as a stimulant to feeling. 



A WELCOME TO ALEXANDRA [PRINCESS OF WALES] 

March 7, 1863 

Sea king's daughter from over the sea, 

Alexandra ! 

Saxon and Norman and Dane are we, 

But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee, 

Alexandra ! 

Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet ! 



182 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Welcome her, thundering cheers of the street ! 

Welcome her, all things youthful and sweet, 

Scatter the blossom under her feet ! 

Break, happy land, into earlier flowers ! 

Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers ! 

Blazon your mottoes of blessing and prayer ! 

Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours ! 

Warble, O bugle, and trumpet blare ! 

Flags, flutter out upon turrets and towers ! 

Flames, on the windy headland flare ! 

Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! 

Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air ! 

Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire ! 

Rush to the roof, sudden rocket and higher 

Melt into stars for the land's desire ! 

Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice, 

Roll as a ground swell dashed on the strand, 

Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land, 

And welcome her, welcome the land's desire, 

The sea king's daughter as happy as fair, 

Blissful bride of a blissful heir, 

Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea — 

O joy to the people, and joy to the throne, 

Come to us, love us, and make us your own ; 

For Saxon or Dane or Norman we, 

Teuton or Celt or whatever we be, 

We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee, 

Alexandra ! 
— Tennyson. 



DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 183 

JUNE 

[From The Vision of Sir Launfaf] 

Oh, what is so rare as a day in June ? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days : 

Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune 

And over it softly her warm ear lays. 

Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 

Every clod feels a stir of might, 

An instinct within it that reaches and towers 

And, groping blindly above it for light, 

Climbs to a soul in grass and in flowers ; 

The flush of life may well be seen 

Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; 

The cowslip startles in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 

And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 

To be some happy creature's palace ; 

The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 

And lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives ; 

His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; 

He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 

In the nice ear of Nature, which song is the best ? 

Now is the high tide of the year, 
And whatever of life hath ebbed away 
Comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer, 
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay ; 
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, 



184 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

We are happy now because God wills it ; 

No matter how barren the past may have been, 

'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green ; 

We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 

How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell ; 

We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 

That skies are clear and grass is growing ; 

The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 

That dandelions are blossoming near, 

That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, 

That the river is bluer than the sky, 

That the robin is plastering his house hard by, 

And if the breeze kept the good news back, 

For other couriers we should not lack ; 

We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — 

And hark ! how clear bold chanticleer, 

Warmed with the new wine of the year, 

Tells all in his lusty crowing ! 

— James Russell Lowell. 



THE MINSTREL BOY 

The minstrel boy to the war is gone, 

In the ranks of death you'll find him, 
His father's sword he has girded on, 

And his wild harp slung behind him. 
" Land of song ! " said the warrior bard, 

" Though all the world betrays thee, 
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, 

One faithful harp shall praise thee ! " 

The minstrel fell ! — but the f oeman's chain 
Could not bring his proud soul under ; 



DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 185 

The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, 

For he tore its chords asunder ; 
And said, " No chains shall sully thee, 

Thou soul of love and bravery ; 
Thy songs were made for the pure and free, 

They shall never sound in slavery ! " 

— Moore. 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL 

Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
Oh ! the pain, the bliss of dying. 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

Hark ! they whisper : angels say, 
"Sister spirit, come away." 
What is this absorbs me quite, 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 

The world recedes ; it disappears ! 
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring ! 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
O grave ! where is thy victory ? 

O death ! where is thy sting ? 

— Pope. 



186 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



ROME 

O Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! 

The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 

Lone Mother of dead empires ! and control 

In their shut breasts their petty misery. 

What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see 

The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way 

O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye ! 

Whose agonies are evils of a day ! 

A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. 

The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, 
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe, 
An empty urn within her withered hands, 
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago. 
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes new ; 
The very sepulchers lie tenantless 
Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, 
Old Tiber, through a marble wilderness ? 
Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress ! 

— Byron, Childe Harold. 

TAHAWUS 

[The highest peak of the Adirondack^ is called " Marcy " in the guidebooks. 
Its real name, given by a long-vanished tribe of Indians, is Tahawus, signi- 
fying "Cloud-splitter."] 

Tahawus has conquered the tempest ; 

The storm clouds are sundered in twain, 
His peak to the blue of the ether 

He raises in triumph again ! 
As from altars secluded and secret 

See the mist, like an incense, arise ; 



DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 187 

It ascends like a wraith from the woodland, 

Like a bird it is lost in the skies. 
O would that my spirit were like thee, 

Tahawus, thou cleaver of clouds ! — 
That my cares could be quelled like the tempest 

When thy might and thy grace it enshrouds ; 
That I too could emerge from the lightnings 

As calm and as placid of brow, 
That my thought, which aspires to the heavens, 

Were majestic and lofty as thou ! 

— Georgiana Mendum. 

AS THE SUN WENT DOWN 

Two soldiers lay on the battlefield 
At night when the sun went down. 

One held a lock of thin gray hair 
And one held a lock of brown. 

One thought of his sweetheart back at home, 

Happy and young and gay, 
And one of his mother left alone, 

Feeble and old and gray. 

Each in the thought that a woman cared, 

Murmured a prayer to God, 
Lifting his gaze to the blue above, 

There on the battle sod. 

Each in the joy of a woman's love 
Smiled through the pain of death, 

Murmured the sound of a woman's name, 
Though with his parting breath. 



188 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Pale grew the dying lips of each, 

Then, as the sun went down, 
One kissed a lock of thin gray hair, 

And one kissed a lock of brown. 

— Waldron W. Anderson. 

RESIGNATION 

There is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 

But has one vacant chair. 

Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors, 

Amid these earthly damps ; 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no death! What seems so, is transition : 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call death. 

She is not dead, the child of our affection, — - 

But gone unto that school, 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child ; 



DRAMATIC EXPRESSION 189 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful, with all the soul's expansion, 

Shall we behold her face. 

— Longfellow. 

THE FLAG 

All hail to our glorious ensign ! Courage to the heart, 
and strength to the hand to which, in all time, it shall be 
intrusted ! May it ever wave in honor, in unsullied, glory 
and patriotic hope, on the dome of the capitol, on the 
country's stronghold, on the tented plain, on the wave- 
rocked topmast ! 

Wherever, on the earth's surface, the eye of the Ameri- 
can shall behold it, may he have reason to bless it ! On 
whatsoever spot it is planted, there may freedom have a 
foothold, humanity a brave champion, and religion an 
altar ! Though stained with blood in a righteous cause, 
may it never in any cause be stained with shame ! 

Alike, when its gorgeous folds shall wanton in lazy 
holiday triumphs on the summer breeze, and its tattered 
fragments be dimly seen through the clouds of war, may it 
be the joy and pride of the American heart ! First raised 
in the cause of right and liberty, in that cause alone may it 
forever spread out its streaming blazonry to the battle and 
the storm ! Having been borne victoriously across the 
continent, and on every sea, may virtue and freedom and 
peace forever follow where it leads the way. 

— Edward Everett. 



CHAPTER XV 

DRAMATIC ATTITUDES 

Bodily action of some sort always precedes speech. A 
baby makes a face before it cries. An emotion first stirs 
the inner man, then affects the external muscles, and last 
of all finds expression in words. 

At bottom we shall find that all expression which does 
not manifest mental, that is, unemotional, states, ex- 
presses either pleasure, pain, love, or antagonism in some 
form. The more complex states combine these in various 
proportions. 

The degree of energy modifies all our expressions. 
Physical power, strength, is shown in energetic action ; 
weakness is shown in relaxed muscular action, and bodily 
depression. 

In general, we may say that animation, pleasure, or joy 
expand and uplift the body ; pain contracts and sorrow 
depresses it. Love draws us forward, toward the object ; 
fear, disgust, antagonism withdraw us ; but passive love 
also draws back the body, while active antagonism carries 
it forward. Thus, in admiring a beautiful scene, we 
draw back to enjoy it more fully ; while in attacking an 
enemy we go toward him. 

PRESENTATIONS OF THE TORSO 

In addition to the hints given above and in the lesson 
on Breathing, the following principles should be borne in 
mind : — 

190 



DRAMATIC ATTITUDES 191 

The body facing the interlocutor squarely expresses re- 
spect, frankness, dominance, courage, etc. If the torso is 
advanced obliquely toward one, it manifests tenderness, 
but it shows a suspicion or fear if withdrawn from the 
person addressed. To turn the back on one's interlocu- 
tor is to express the utmost contempt for him. 

ATTITUDES OF THE HEAD 

The head is erect in attention, lifted higher in hauteur 
or joyful excitement, bowed in thought or threatening, in- 
clined gently toward the interlocutor in tenderness, drawn 
back or inclined away from the interlocutor in distrust. 
In weakness the neck is relaxed, the head thrown from 
side to side or backward ; in shame the head hangs down. 

The habitual attitude of a person is called his Bearing. 
In dramatic expression we show our conception of the 
character we impersonate, not only by our bearing, but by 
the tone of voice, the selection of means for emphasis, 
habitual inflections, pitch, rhythm, and, in a word, by all 
possible means of vocal characterization. 

Thus, a blustering type of character would stand habitu- 
ally with the legs apart, head lifted, and elbows out; his 
voice would be loud, and his emphasis would be by force 
rather than by melody. A mean person would draw himself 
together, speak in a softer voice, perhaps, avoid the eye of 
the person addressed, etc. A noble character would stand 
erect. A timid person would act as if just ready to run 
away. In practicing scenes from plays we may carry im- 
personation further than in narrative recitation, where it is 
better to suggest thafi. to imitate too broadly. In dialogues 
and scenes the actors should face the audience as much as 
possible, facing one another obliquely and moving about 
freely as the situations and emotions demand. 



192 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



EXEKCISES IN ATTITUDE 



1. From a reflective attitude go forward with the body 
joyfully erect, smiling, and in every way endeavoring to 
feel happy. Imagine that you have just received good 
news of some sort. Say " How delightful," " How jolly," 
"Hurrah." Clap the hands or make any other joyful 
demonstration that will aid you in giving full expression 
to the feeling. 

2. Change the weight to the retired foot, but with great 
relaxation and depression : " I can go no farther," " All is 
over," " Alas ! " 

3. Go forward again, but this time with a loving and 
tender expression, the head inclined, the arms extended 
as in welcome : " I love you," or caressingly, " What a 
pretty child," "What a beautiful picture." 

4. Retire with strong antagonism — frowning face, 
hands extended as if to scratch or tear, or clinched as if 
to strike : " I hate you ! " 

Reverse 3 and 4, that is, go forward with hate, back- 
ward with love. 

In all these and similar exercises, try to feel the emotion 
before taking the attitude. Hold a mental state or an 
emotion until you feel the effect in every part of the body. 

PANTOMIMIC INVENTION 

For gaining self-control, as well as for studying the 
effects or different emotions, it is good practice to imagine 
a series of situations and act accordingly. 

For example : (1) Suppose yourself to be standing or 
sitting in your room. (2) A knock is heard ; you turn in 
expectation. (3) A friend enters. (4) You advance a 



DRAMATIC ATTITUDES 193 

step in greeting. (5) He refuses to iiccept your hand, 
much to your surprise. (6) He accuses you of miscon- 
duct, although you protest your innocence. (7) You 
become angry. (8) Finally you order him to leave the 
room. (9) On his departure you reflect upon his conduct 
and your indignation changes into sorrow at the loss of a 
friend, or pain at the accusation, and you sink back in 
your chair, or remain standing in great dejection. One 
can invent and act out many similar little " plots," and the 
practice is of much greater benefit than mere mechanical 
repetition of set exercises could possibly be ; but it is nec- 
essary, in order that they be well performed, that a certain 
amount of careful mechanical practice should go with your 
inventions ; otherwise you run the risk of increased awk- 
wardness, instead of ease and harmony. 

It is well to accompany your action with appropriate 
phrases, for example, with the above series : (1) " What 
a stupid day; I wish some one would call." (2) "Ah! 
come in ! " (3)" This is a pleasant surprise ! " (4) " How 
glad I am to see you." (5) "What is the matter?" 
(6) " I assure you it is not true." (7) " I say it is false ! " 
(8) " Leave the room ! " (9) " How could he believe I 
would do such a thing? " or "Now I shall never see him 
again ! " 

In the selections which follow, make free use of attitude, 
gesture, facial expression, and all the elements of vocal 
expression which we have studied. 

In public performance we must be careful not to overdo ; 
but in rehearsing a difficult selection it is occasionally 
advisable to carry action to the greatest possible extreme 
in order to attain freedom and ease. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 13 



194 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 
hamlet's SOLILOQUY 

[Attitudes of reflection, either sitting or standing.] 

To be, or not to be ; that is the question : — 

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 

And, by opposing, end them? — to die ; to sleep, — 

No more : and, by a sleep, to say we end 

The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks 

That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 

Devoutly to be wish'd ! To die, — to sleep ; — 

To sleep ! perchance to dream : — Ay, there's the rub 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause. There's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life ; 

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 

The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin? Who'd these fardels bear, 

To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 

But that the dread of something after death,— 

That undiscovered country, from whose bourn 

No traveler returns, — puzzles the will, 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we know not of ? 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all s 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 195 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 

And enterprises of great pith and moment, 

With this regard, their currents turn awry, 

And lose the name of action. — Shakespeare. 



QUEEN KATHARINE'S APPEAL TO HEXRY VIII 
[Tender and affectionate persuasion, resignation, despair.] 

Sir, I desire you do me right and justice. 

And to bestow your pity on me ; for 

I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, 

Born out of your dominions ; having here 

No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance 

Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, 

In what have I offended you ; what cause 

Hath my behavior given to your displeasure, 

That thus you should proceed to put me off, 

And take your good grace from me *? Heaven witness, 

I have been to you a true and humble wife, 

At all times to your will conformable : 

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 

Yes, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry, 

As I saw it inclined. When was the hour 

I ever contradicted your desire, 

Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends 

Have I not strove to love, although I knew 

He were mine enemy? Sir, call to mind, 

That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 

Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 

With many children by you : If, in the course 

And process of this time, you can report, 

And prove it too, against mine honor aught, 






196 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 

Against your sacred person, in God's name, 

Turn me away ; and let the f oui'st contempt 

Shut door upon me and so give me up 

To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, 

The king, your father, was reputed for 

A prince most prudent, of an excellent 

And unmatch'd wit and judgment. Ferdinand, 

My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one 

The wisest prince, that there had reigned by many 

A year before : it is not to be question'd, 

That they had gather'd a wise council to them 

Of every realm that did debate this business, 

Who deemed our marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly 

Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may 

Be by my friends in Spain advised ; whose council 

I will implore : if not, i' th' name of God 

Your pleasure be fulfill'd ! —Shakespeare. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY, ON BEING CAST OFF BY KING 
HENBY VIII 

[Dejection, despair, noble resignation, physical weakness.] 

Nay, then, farewell, 

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness ; 

And, from that full meridian of my glory, 

I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 

Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 

And no man see me more. 

[To the messengers of the King as they leave him.'] 
So farewell to the little good you bear me. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 197 

This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 

The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow, blossoms, 

And bears his blushing honors thick upon him : 

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 

And, when he thinks — good, easy man — full surely 

His greatness is a ripening, nips his root, 

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 

These many summers in a sea of glory ; 

But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 

At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 

Weary and old with service, to the mercy 

Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 



Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new open'd. Oh, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have, 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. . . . 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 

In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, 

Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 

Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; 

And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 

And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention 

Of me must more be heard of, — say I taught thee, — 

Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, 

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, 



198 S< HOOL SPEAKEB 

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 

Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me. 

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ! 

By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 

The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? 

Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee, — 

Corruption wins not more than honesty ; 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, 

Thy God's, and truth's : then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, 

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king ; 

And, Prithee, lead me in : 

There, take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, 

And my integrity to heaven, is all 

I dare now call mine own. Oh, Cromwell, Cromwell ! 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal 

I served my king, he would not, in mine age, 

Have left me naked to mine enemies. 

— Arranged from Shakespeare. 



SCENE FROM KING STEPHEN 

[Afield of battle. Alarum. Enter King Stephen, 
Knights, and Soldiers.] 

Stephen. If shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll'n front 
Spread deeper crimson than the battle's toil, 
Blush in your casing helmets ! for see, see ! 
Yonder my chivalry, my pride of war, 
Wrench'd with an iron hand from firm array, 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 199 

Are routed loose about the plashy meads, 
Of honor forfeit. O that my known voice 
Could reach your dastard ears, and fright you more ! 
Fly, cowards, fly ! Gloucester is at your backs ! 
Throw your slack bridles o'er the flurried manes, 
Ply well the rowel with faint trembling heels, 
Scampering to death at last ! 

1st Knight. The enemy 

Bears his flaunt standard close upon their rear. 

2d Knight. Sure of a bloody prey, seeing the fens 
Will swamp them girth-deep. 

Stephen. Over head and ears. 

No matter ! 'Tis a gallant enemy ; 
How like a comet he goes streaming on. 
But we must plague him in the flank, — hey, friends? 
We are well breath'd, — follow ! 

[Enter Earl Baldwin and Soldiers, as defeated. ~\ 

Stephen. De Redvers ! 

What is the monstrous bugbear that can fright 
Baldwin ? 

Baldwin. No scarecrow, but the fortunate star 
Of boisterous Chester, whose fell truncheon now 
Points level to the goal of victory. 
This way he comes, and if you would maintain 
Your person unaffronted by vile odds, 
Take horse, my Lord. 

Stephen. And which way spur for life ? 

Now I thank Heaven I am in the toils, 
That soldiers may bear witness how my arm 
Can burst the meshes. Not the eagle more 
Loves to beat up against a tyrannous blast, 
Than I to meet the torrent of my foes. 






200 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

This is a brag, — be't so, — but if I fall, 
Carve it upon my 'scutcheon'cl sepulcher. 
On, fellow soldiers ! Earl of Redvers, back ! 
Not twenty Earls of Chester shall browbeat 
The diadem. 

— Keats. 



THE PHANTOM SHIP 

[Horror.] 

There passed a weary time. Each throat 

Was parched, and glazed each eye. 

A weary time ! a weary time ! 

How glazed each weary eye, 

When, looking westward, I beheld 

A something in the sky ! 

At first it seemed a little speck, 
And then it seemed a mist ; 
It moved, and moved, and took at last 
A certain shape, I wist. 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! 
And still it neared and neared ; 
As if it dodged a water sprite, 
It plunged and tacked and veered. 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 

We could nor laugh nor wail ; 

Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! 

I bit my arm, I sucked my blood, 

And cried, A sail, a sail ! 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 201 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 
Agape they heard me call : 
Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, 
And all at once their breath drew in, 
As they were drinking all. 

See ! see ! (I cried), she tacks no more ! 
Hither to work us weal, 
Without a breeze, without a tide, 
She steadies with upright keel ! 

The western wave was all aflame, * 

The day was well-nigh done ! 

Almost upon the western wave 

Rested the broad, bright sun ; 

When that strange ship drave suddenly 

Betwixt us and the sun. 

And straight the sun was flecked with bars, 
(Heaven's mother send us grace ! ) 
As if through a dungeon grate it peered 
With broad and burning face. 

Alas ! thought I, (and my heart beat loud), 
How fast she nears, and nears ! 
Are those her sails that glance in the sun 
Like restless gossameres ? 

Are those her ribs through which the sun 
Did peer, as through a grate ? 
And is that woman all her crew ? 
Is that a Death ? and are there two ? 
Is Death that Woman's mate ? 



202 school SPEAKEB 

Her lips were red, her looks were free, 
Her locks were yellow as gold ; 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she, 
Who thicks man's blood with cold. 

The naked hulk alongside came, 

And the twain were casting dice ; 

" The game is done ! I've won, I've won ! " 

Quoth she, and whistles thrice. 

The sun's rim dips ! the stars rush out ! 
At one stride comes the dark ; 
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, 
Off shot the specter bark. 

We listened and looked sideways up ! 

Fear at my heart, as at a cup, 

My lifeblood seemed to sip ! 

The stars were dim, and thick the night, 

The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white ; 

From the sails the dew did drip — 

Till clomb above the eastern bar 

The horned moon, with one bright star 

Within the nether tip. 

— S. T. Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

THE QUARREL BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS 
[Auger, reproach, tenderness.] 

Cassius. That you have wronged me doth appear in 
this : 
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 203 

Wherein my letters (praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man) were slighted off. 

Brutus. Yon wronged yourself, to write in such a case. 

Cas. At such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice offense should bear its comment 

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemned to have an itching palm ; 
To sell and mart your offices for gold 
To undeservers. 

Cas. I an itching palm ? 
You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
And chastisement doth therefore hide its head. 

Cas. Chastisement ! 

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember ! 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice? — What ! shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers ; — shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? — ■ 
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman. 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me : 
I'll not endure it. You forget yourself, 
To hedge me in : I am a soldier, I, 
Older in practice, abler than yourself 
To make conditions. 

Bru. Go to ; you're not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am. 



204 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Bru. I say you are not. 

Cas. Urge me no more : I shall forget myself : 
Have mind upon your health : tempt me no further. 

Bru. Away, slight man ! 

Cas. Is't possible ? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? 

Cas. Must I endure all this ? 

Bru. All this ? Aye, more. Fret till your proud heart 
break. 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? 
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humor ? 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my mirth ; yea, for my laughter, 
When you are waspish. 

Cas. Is it come to this ? 

Bru. You say you are a better soldier ; 
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well. For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 

Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus: 
I said an elder soldier, not a better. 
Did I say better ? 

Bru. If you did, I care not. 

Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved 
me. 

Bru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have tempted him. 

Cas. I durst not? 

Bru. No. 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 205 

Cas. What ! Durst not tempt him ? 

Br u. For your life you durst not. 

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. I did send to you 
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me : — 
For I can raise no money by vile means ; 
I had rather coin my heart, 

And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
By any indirection. I did send 
To you for gold to pay my legions ; 
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius ? 
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ; 
Dash him to pieces ! 

Cas. I denied you not. 

Bru. You did. 

Cas. I did not : he was but a fool 
That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath rived my 

heart. 
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities ; 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me. 

Cas. You love me not. 

Bru. I do not like your faults. 

Gas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 



206 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
As huge as high Olympus. 

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come ! 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius : 
For Cassius is a-weary of the world — 
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
Set in a notebook, learned, and conned by rote, 
To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep 
My spirit from my eyes ! — There is my dagger, 
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold ; 
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth : 
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart. 
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for I know, 
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better 
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 

Bru. Sheathe your dagger : 
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope : 
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. 

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. 

Bru. And my heart too. 

Cas. O Brutus ! 

Bru. What's the matter? 

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 207 

When that rash humor which my mother gave me, 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and from henceforth, 
When you are overearnest with your Brutus, 
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 

— Shakespeare. 

SCENE FROM LONDON ASSURANCE 

Max Harhaway. Ah ! Sir Harcourt, had you been 
here a month ago, you would have witnessed the most 
glorious run that ever swept over merry England's green 
cheek, a steeple chase, sir. How I regretted my absence 
from it ! How did my filly behave herself, Gay ? 

Lady Gray Spanker. Gloriously, Max ! gloriously ! 
There were sixty horses in the field, all mettle to the bone : 
the start was a picture — away we went in a cloud — pell- 
mell — helter-skelter — the fools first, as usual, using 
themselves up — we soon passed them — first your Kitty, 
then my Blueskin, and Craven's colt last. Then came 
the tug — Kitty skimmed the walls — Blueskin flew over 
the fences — the Colt neck-and-neck, and half a mile to 
run — at last the Colt balked a leap and went wild. 
Kitty and I had it all to ourselves — she was three lengths 
ahead as we breasted the last wall, six feet, if an inch, 
and a ditch on the other side. Now, for the first time, I 
gave Blueskin his head — ha! ha! Away he flew like a 
thunderbolt — over went the filly — I over the same spot, 
leaving Kitty in the ditch — walked the steeple, eight 
miles in thirty minutes, and scarcely turned a hair. 

All. Bravo! Bravo! 

Lady Gray. [To Dazzle.] Do you hunt? 

Daz. Hunt ! I belong to a hunting family. I Avas born 



208 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

on horseback and cradled in a kennel ! Aye, and I hope I 
may die with a whoo-whoop ! 

Max. [To Sir Harcourt Courtly. ] You must leave 
your town habits in the smoke of London : here we rise 
with the lark. 

Sir H. Haven't the remotest conception when that 
period is. 

Gf-race Harkaivay. The man that misses sunrise loses 
the sweetest part of his existence. 

Sir H. Oh, pardon me ; I have seen sunrise frequently 
after a ball, or from the windows of my traveling car- 
riage, and I always considered it disagreeable. 

Grace. I love to watch the first tear that glistens in 
the opening eye of morning, the silent song the flowers 
breathe, the thrilling choir of the woodland minstrels, to 
which the modest brook trickles applause, — these swell- 
ing out the sweetest chord of sweet creation's matins, 
seem to pour some soft and merry tale into the daylight's 
ear, as if the waking world had dreamed a happy thing, 
and now smiled o'er the telling of it. 

Sir H. The effect of a rustic education ! Who could 
ever discover music in a damp foggy morning, except 
those confounded waits, who never play in tune, and a 
miserable wretch who makes a point of crying coffee 
under my window just as I am persuading myself to 
sleep : in fact, I never heard any music worth listening to, 
except in Italy. 

Lady Gray. No? then you never heard a well-trained 
English pack in full cry ! 

'Sir H. Full cry ! 

Lady Gray. Aye ! there is harmony, if you will. Give 
me the trumpet-neigh ; the spotted pack just catching 
scent. What a chorus is their yelp ! The view halloo, 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 209 

blent with a peal of free and fearless mirth ! That's our 
old English music, — match it where you can. 

— Dion Boucicault. 



SCENE FROM THE RIVALS 

Mrs. Malaprop. There, Sir Anthony, there stands the 
deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her family 
and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. 

Lydia. Madam, I thought you once — 

Mrs. M. You thought, miss ! I don't know any busi- 
ness you have to think at all : thought does not become a 
young woman. But the point we would request of you 
is, that you will promise to forget this fellow — to illiter- 
ate him, I say, from your memory. 

Lyd. Ah ! madam ! our memories are independent of 
our wills. It is not so easy to forget. 

Mrs. M. But I say it is, miss ! there is nothing on 
earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about 
it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle, 
as if he had never existed ; and I thought it my duty so 
to do ; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories 
don't become a young woman. 

Lyd. What crime, madam, have I committed, to be 
treated thus? 

Mrs. M. Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from 
the matter ; you know I have proof controvertible of it. 
But tell me, will you promise me to do as you are bid? 
Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing ? 

Lyd. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that, had I no 
preference for any one else, the choice you have made 
would be my aversion. 

Mrs. M. What business have you, miss, with preference 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 14 



210 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

and aversion? They don't become a young woman. But, 
suppose we were going to give you another choice, will 
you promise us to give up this Beverley? 

Lyd. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that 
promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words. 

Mrs. M. Take yourself to your room ! You are fit 
company for nothing but your own ill humors. 

Lyd. Willingly, ma'am ; I cannot change for the worse. 

[Exit, K. 

Mrs. M. There's a little intricate hussy for you ! 

Sir A. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am ; all that is 
the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. In my 
way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid 
coming forth from a circulating library : from that mo- 
ment, I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress ! 

Mrs. M. Those are vile places, indeed ! 

Sir A. Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an 
evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge ! 

Mrs. M. Fie, fie, Sir Anthony ! you surely speak laconi- 
cally. 

Sir A. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation, now, what 
would you have a woman know ? 

Mrs. M. Observe me, Sir Anthony — I would by no 
means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learn- 
ing ; I don't think so much learning becomes a young 
woman ; for instance, I would never let her meddle with 
Greek, or Hebrew, or Algebra, or Simony, or Fluxions, or 
Paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning ; 
nor will it be necessary for her to handle any of your 
mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments ; but, 
Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a 
boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and 
artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowl- 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 211 

edge in accounts ; and, as she grew up, I would have her 
instructed in geometry, that she might know something 
of the contagious countries ; above all, she should be 
taught orthodoxy. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would 
have a woman know ; and I don't think there is a super- 
stitious article in it. 

Sir A. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the 
point no further with you : though I must confess, that 
you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost 
every third word you say is on my side of the question. — 
But to the more important point in debate — you say you 
have no objection to my proposal? 

Mrs. M. None, I assure you. We have never seen your 
son, Sir Anthony ; but I hope no objection on his side. 

Sir A. Objection ! — let him object, if he dare ! — No, 
no, Mrs. Malaprop ; Jack knows that the least demur puts 
me in a frenzy directly. My process was always very 
simple — in his younger days, 'twas " Jack, do this," — if 
he demurred, I knocked him down ; and, if he grumbled 
at that, I always sent him out of the room. 

Mrs. M. Aye, and the properest way, o' my conscience ! 
— Nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. 
Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, 
and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations ; and 
I hope you will represent her to the Captain^ as an object 
not altogether illegible. 

Sir A. Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. I 
must leave you ; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to 
enforce this matter roundly to the girl — take my advice, 
keep a tight hand — if she rejects this proposal, clap her 
under lock and key ; and if you were just to let the 
servants forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, 
you can't conceive how she'd come about. [Exit, L. 



212 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



SCENE FROM THE RIVALS 



Captain Absolute. Sir, I am delighted to see you here, 
and looking so well ! Your sudden arrival at Bath made 
me apprehensive for your health. 

Sir Anthony. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. 
What, you are recruiting here, hey? 

Capt. A. Yes, sir ; I am on duty. 

Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did 
not expect it ; for I" was going to write to you on a little 
matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I 
grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you 
long. 

Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more 
strong and hearty; and I pray fervently that you may 
continue so. 

Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my 
heart. Well, then, Jack, I have been considering that I 
am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you 
a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of 
your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, 
is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. 

Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. 

Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my 
boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, 
therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. 

Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Such 
generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than 
the sensations even of filial affection. 

Sir A. I am glad you are so sensible of my attention ; 
and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks. 

Capt. A. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude. 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 213 

I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence. 
Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the 
army. 

Sir A. Oh, that shall be as your wife chooses. 

Oapt. A. My wife, sir ! 

Sir A. Aye, aye, settle that between you — settle that 
between you. 

Oapt. A. A wife, sir, did you say ? 

Sir A. Aye, a wife — why, did not I mention her 
before ? 

Oapt. A. Not a word of her, sir. 

Sir A. Upon my word, I mustn't forget her, though ! 
Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a mar- 
riage, — the fortune is saddled with a wife ; but I suppose 
that makes no difference ? 

Oapt. A. Sir, sir, you amaze me ! 

Sir A. What's the matter? Just now you were all 
gratitude and duty. 

Oapt. A. I was, sir ; you talked to me of independence 
and a fortune, but not one word of a wife. 

Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Sir, if 
you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock 
on it, as it stands. 

Oapt. A. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg 
leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady? 

Sir A. What's that to you, sir? Come, give me your 
promise to love, and to marry her directly. 

Oapt. A. Sure, sir, that's not very reasonable, to sum- 
mon my affections for a lady I know nothing of ! 

Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to 
object to a lady you know nothing of. 

Oapt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once 
for all, that on this point I cannot obey you. 



214 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Sir A. Hark you, Jack ! I have heard you for some 
time with patience ; I have been cool — quite cool ; but 
take care ; you know I am compliance itself, when I am 
not thwarted ; no one more easily led — when I have my 
own way ; but don't put me in a frenzy. 

Oapt. A. Sir, I must repeat it ; in this I cannot obey 
you. 

Sir A. Now, shoot me, if ever I call you Jack again 
while I live ! 

Oapt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. 

Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a word ! — not 
one word ! So, give me your promise by a nod ; and I'll 
tell you what, Jack, — I mean, you dog, — if you don't — 

Oapt. A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some 
mass of ugliness ; to — 

Sir A. Sir, the lady shall be as ugly as I choose ; she 
shall have a hump on each shoulder ; she shall be as 
crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roll like the 
bull's in Cox's mu-se-um ; she shall have a skin like a 
mummy, and the beard of a Jew ; she shall be all this, 
sir ! yet I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all 
night to write sonnets on her beauty ! 

Oapt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed ! 

Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy ! — no grinning, 
jackanapes ! 

Oapt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for 
mirth in my life. 

Sir A. 'Tis false, sir ! I know you are laughing in 
your sleeve : I know you'll grin when I am gone, sir ! 

Oapt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 

Sir A. None of your passion, sir ! none of your vio- 
lence, if you please ! It won't do with me, I promise you. 

Oapt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. 



DRAMA TIC SELECTIONS 215 

Sir A. I know you are in a passion in your heart ; I 
know you are, you hypocritical young dog ! But it won't 
do! 

Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word — 

Sir A. So, you will fly out? Can't you be cool, like 
me? What good can passion do? Passion is of no 
service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! 
There, you sneer again ! Don't provoke me ! But you 
rely upon the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog ! 
You play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet, 
take care ; the patience of a saint may be overcome at 
last ! But, mark ! I give you six hours and a half to 
consider of this : if you then agree, without any condition, 
to do everything on earth that I choose, why, I may, in 
time, forgive you. If not, don't enter the same hemi- 
sphere with me; don't dare to breathe the same air, or 
use the same light, with me ; but get an atmosphere and a 
sun of your own ! I'll strip you of your commission ; I'll 
lodge a hve-ancl-threepence in the hands of trustees, and 
you shall live on the interest ! I'll disown you, I'll dis- 
inherit you ! I'll never call } t ou Jack again ! [Exit.^\ 

Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father ! I kiss your 

hand. 

— R. B. Sheridan. 

THE VICTIM 
[Dramatic narration — alternation of description and impersonation.] 

A plague upon the people fell, 

A famine after laid them low, 
Then thorpe and byre arose in fire, 

For on them brake the sudden foe ; 
So thick they died the people cried 

" The Gods are moved against the land." 



216 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The Priest in horror above his altar 
To Thor and Odin lifted a hand : 
" Help us from famine 
And plague and strife ! 
What would you have of us ? 
Human life? 
Were it our nearest, 
Were it our dearest, 
(Answer, O answer) 
We give you his life." 

But still the foeman spoil'd and burn'd, 

And cattle died, and deer in wood, 
And bird in air, and fishes turn'd 

And whiten'd all the rolling flood ; 
And dead men lay all over the way, 

Or down in a furrow scathed with flame : 
And ever and aye the Priesthood moan'd 
Till at last it seem'd that an answer came 
" The King is happy 
In child and wife ; 
Take you his dearest, 
Give us a life." 

The Priest went out by heath and hill ; 

The King was hunting in the wild ; 
They found the mother sitting still ; 

She cast her arms about the child. 
The child was only eight summers old, 

His beauty still with his years increased, 
His face was ruddy, his hair was gold, 

He seem'd a victim due to the Priest. 
The Priest beheld him, 
And cried with joy, 



DRAMATIC SELECTIONS 217 

" The Gods have answer'd : 
We give them the boy." 

The King return'd from out the wild, 

He bore but little game in hand ; 
The mother said : " They have taken the child 

To spill his blood and heal the land : 
The land is sick, the people diseased, 

And blight and famine on all the lea : 
The holy Gods, they must be appeased, 
So I pray you tell the truth to me. 
They have taken our son, 
They will have his life. . 
Is he your dearest ? 
Or I, the wife?" 

The King bent low, with hand on brow, 

He stay'd his arms upon his knee : 
" O wife, what use to answer now ? 

For now the Priest has judged for me." 
The King was shaken with holy fear ; 

"The Gods," he said, " would have chosen well ; 
Yet both are near, and both are dear, 
And which the dearest I cannot tell ! " 
But the Priest was happy, 
His victim won : 
" We have his dearest, 
His only son ! " 

The rites prepared, the victim bared, 
The knife uprising toward the blow, 

To the altar stone she sprang alone, 
" Me, not my darling, no ! " 



218 school SPEAKER 

He caught her away with a sudden cry; 

Suddenly from him brake his wife, 
And shrieking, " / am his dearest, I — 
/am his dearest ! " rush'd on the knife= 
And the Priest was happy, 
" O Father Odin, 
We give you a life. 
Which was his nearest ? 
Who was his dearest ? 
The Gods have answer'd ; 
We give them the wife ! " 

— Tknnyson. 



SPORT 

From Boy Life on the Prairie, by permission 

Somewhere, in deeps 

Of tangled ripening wheat, 

A little prairie-chicken cries — 

Lost from its fellows, it pleads and weeps» 

Meanwhile, stained and mangled, 

With dust-filled eyes, 

The unreplying mother lies 

Limp and bloody at the sportsman's feet, 

— Hamlin Garland, 



PART II 
MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 

TO A MUMMY 
Horace Smith 

And thou hast walked about — how strange a story ! 

In Thebes's streets, three thousand years ago ! 
When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous ! 

Speak ! — for thou long enough hast acted dummy, 
Thou hast a tongue, — come — let us hear its tune ! 

Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, mummy ! 
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, — 

Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 

But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features ! 

Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — 

To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame ? — 

Was Cheops, or Cephrenes architect 

Of either pyramid that bears his name ? — 

Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? — 

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

Perhaps thou wert a mason — and forbidden, 
By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade : 

219 



220 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Then say, what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played ? 
Perhaps thou wert a priest ; — if so, my struggles 
Are vain, — for priestcraft never owns its juggles ! 

Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 

Hath hob-a-nobbed with Pharoah, glass to glass, — 

Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, — 

Or doffed thine own, to let Queen Dido pass, — 

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 

A torch, at the great temple's dedication ! 

I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 
Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled ? 

For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : — 

Antiquity appears to have begun 

Long after thy primeval race was run. 

Since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations 

The Roman empire has begun and ended, — 

New worlds have risen, — we have lost old nations, — 

And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 

While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, 
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 

Marched armies o'er thy tomb, with thundering tread, 
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, — 

And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, 

When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 221 

If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold ! 
A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast, 

And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled : — 
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face? 
What was thy name and station, age and race? 

Statue of flesh ! — Immortal of the dead ! 

Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
Posthumous man, — who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 

And standest undecayed within our presence ! 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning ! 

Why should this worthless tegument endure, 

If its undying guest be lost forever ? 
Oh, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 

In living virtue, — that when both must sever, 
Athough corruption may our frame consume, 
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom ! 

THE VICTORY OF HECTOR 

Homer's Iliad, translated by Bryant 

As two men upon a field, 
With measuring rods in hand, disputing stand 
Over the common boundary, in small space, 
Each one contending for the right he claims, 
So, kept asunder by the breastwork, fought 
The warriors over it, and fiercely struck 
The orbed bulFs-hide shields held up before 
The breast, and the light targets. Many a one 
Was smitten when he turned and showed the back 



222 school SPEAKER 

Unarmed, and many wounded through the shield. 
The towers and battlements were steeped in blood 
Of heroes, — Greeks and Trojans. Yet were not 
The Greeks thus put to flight ; but, as the scales 
Are held by some just woman, who maintains, 
By spinning wool, her household, — carefully 
She poises both the wool and weights, to make 
The balance even, that she may provide 
A pittance for her babes, — thus equally 
Were matched the warring hosts, till Jupiter 
Conferred the eminent glory of the day 
On Hector, son of Priam. He it was 
Who first leaped down into the space within 
The Grecian wall, and, with far-reaching voice, 
Thus shouted, calling to the men of Troy : — 

" Rush on, ye knights of Troy ! rush boldly on, 
And break your passage through the Grecian wall, 
And hurl consuming flames against their fleet ! " 

So spake he, cheering on his men. They heard, 
And rushed in mighty throngs against the wall, 
And climbed the battlements, to charge the foe 
With spears. Then Hector stooped, and seized a stone 
Which lay before the gate, broad at the base 
And sharp above, which two, the strongest men, — 
As men are now, — could hardly heave from earth 
Into a wain. With ease he lifted it, 
Alone, and brandished it : such strength the son 
Of Saturn gave him, that it seemed but light. 
As when a shepherd carries home with ease 
A wether's fleece, — he bears it in one hand, 
And little is he cumbered with its weight, — 
So Hector bore the lifted stone, to break 
The beams that strengthened the tall folding gates. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 223 

Two bars within, laid crosswise, held them firm, — 

Both fastened with one bolt. He came and stood 

Before them ; with wide-parted feet he stood, 

And put forth all his strength, that so his arm 

Might drive the missile home ; and in the midst 

He smote the folding gates. The blow tore off 

The hinges ; heavily the great stone fell 

Within : the portals crashed ; nor did the bars 

Withstand the blow : the shattered beams gave way 

Before it ; and illustrious Hector sprang 

Into the camp. His look was stern as night ; 

And terrible the brazen armor gleamed 

That swathed him. With two spears in hand he came, 

And none except the gods — when once his foot 

Was on the ground — could stand before his might. 

His eyes shot fire, and, turning to his men, 

He bade them mount the wall ; and they obeyed : 

Some o'er the wall, some through the sculptured gate, 

Poured in. The Achaians to their roomy ships 

Fled, and a fearful uproar filled the air. 



THE BURIAL OF MOSES 

C. F. Alexander 

By Nebo's lonely mountain, on this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale, in the land of Moab, there lies a lonely grave ; 
But no man dug that sepulcher, and no man saw it e'er, 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, and laid the dead 

man there. 
That was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth ; 
But no man heard the tramping, or saw the train go forth ; 



224 * SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Noiselessly as the daylight comes when the night is done, 
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows into the 
great sun, — 

Noiselessly as the springtime her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills open their thousand 

leaves, — 
So, without sound of music, or voice of them that wept, 
Silently down from the mountain crown the great proces- 
sion swept. 

Lo ! when the warrior dieth, his comrades in the war, 
With arms reversed, and muffled drum, follow the funeral 

car. 
They show the banners taken, they tell his battles won, 
And after him lead his masterless steed, while peals the 

minute-gun. 

Amid the noblest of the land men lay the sage to rest, 
And give the bard an honored place with costly marble 

dressed, 
In the great minster transept, where lights like glories fall, 
And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings, along the 

emblazoned wall. 

This was the bravest warrior that ever buckled sword ; 
This the most gifted poet that ever breathed a word ; 
And never earth's philosopher traced, with his golden pen, 
On the deathless page, truths half so sage, as he wrote 
down for men. 

And had he not high honor, the hillside for his pall ; 

To lie in state while angels wait with stars for tapers tall ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 225 

And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, over his bier 

to wave ; 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, to lay him in 

the grave? 

Oh, lonely tomb in Moab's land, oh, dark Beth-peor's hill, 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours, and teach them to 

be still. 
God hath his mysteries of Grace — ways that we cannot 

tell ; 
He hides them deep, like the secret sleep of him he loved 

so well. 

ENVY AND AVARICE 
Victor Hugo 

Envy and Avarice, one summer day, 

Sauntering abroad 

In quest of the abode 
Of some poor wretch or fool who lived that way — 
You — or myself, perhaps — I cannot say — 
Along the road, scarce heeding where it tended, 
Their way in sullen, sulky silence wended ; 
For, though twin sisters, these two charming creatures, 
Rivals in hideousness of form and features, 
Wasted no love between them as they went. 

Pale Avarice, 

With gloating eyes, 
And back and shoulders almost double bent, 
Was hugging close that fatal box 

For which she's ever on the watch 

Some glance to catch 
Suspiciously directed to its locks ; 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 15 



226 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And Envy, too, no doubt with silent winking 
At her green, greedy orbs, no single minute 

Withdrawn from it, was hard a-thinking 
Of all the shining dollars in it. 

The only words that Avarice could utter, 
Her constant doom, in a low, frightened mutter, 

" There's not enough, enough, yet in my store ! " 
While Envy, as she scanned the glittering sight, 
Groaned as she gnashed her yellow teeth with spite, 

" She's more than me, more, still forever more ! " 

Thus, each in her own fashion, as they wandered, 
Upon the coffer's precious contents pondered, 

When suddenly, to their surprise, 

The god Desire stood before their eyes. 
Desire, that courteous deity who grants 
All wishes, prayers, and wants ; 
Said he to the two sisters : " Beauteous ladies, 
As I'm a gentleman, my task and trade is 

To be the slave of your behest — 
Choose therefore at your own sweet will and pleasure, 
Honors or treasure ! 

Or in one word, whatever you'd- like best. 
But, let us understand each other — she 
Who speaks the first, her prayer shall certainly 

Receive — the other, the same boon redoubled! " 

Imagine how our amiable pair, 

At this proposal, all so frank and fair, 

Were mutually troubled ! 
Misers and enviers of our human race, 
Say, what would you have done in such a case ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 227 

Each of the sisters murmured, sad and low : 
" What boots it, oh, Desire, to me to have 
Crowns, treasures, all the goods that heart can crave, 

Or power divine bestow, 

Since still another must have always more? " 

So each, lest she should speak before 

The other, hesitating slow and long 

Till the god lost all patience, held her tongue. 
He was enraged, in such a way, 
To be kept waiting there all day, 

With two such beauties in the public road ; 
Scarce able to be civil even, 
He wished them both — well, not in heaven. 

Envy at last the silence broke, 

And smiling, with malignant sneer, 
Upon her sister dear, 

Who stood in expectation by, 
Ever implacable and cruel, spoke : 

" I would be blinded of one eye ! " 



THE BATTLE OF SALAMIS 

^Eschylus, Translated by J. S. Blackie 

Some evil god, or an avenging spirit, 
Began the fray. From the Athenian fleet 
There came a Greek, and thus thy son bespoke : 
" Soon as the gloom of night shall fall, the Greeks 
No more will wait, but, rushing to their oars, 
Each man will seek his safety where he may 
By secret flight." This Xerxes heard, but knew not 
The guile of Greece, nor yet the jealous gods, 



228 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And to his captains straightway gave command 
That, when the sun withdrew his burning beams, 
And darkness tilled the temple of the sky, 
In triple lines their ships they should dispose, 
Each wave-plashed outlet guarding, fencing round 
The isle of Ajax surely. They obeyed. 
All night they cruised, and with a moving belt 
Prisoned the frith, till day 'gan peep, and still 
No stealthy Greek the expected flight essayed. 
But when at length the snowy-steeded day 
Burst o'er the main, all beautiful to see, 
First from the Greeks a tuneful shout uprose, 
Well omened, and, with replication loud, 
Leaped the blithe echo from the rocky shore. 
Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked 
By vain opinion ; not like wavering flight 
Billowed the solemn psean of the Greeks, 
But like the shout of men to battle urging, 
With lusty cheer. Then the fierce trumpet's voice 
Blazed o'er the main ; and on the salt sea flood 
Forthwith the oars with measured splash descended, 
And all their lines, with dexterous speed displayed, 
Stood with opposing front. The right wing first, 
Then the whole fleet, bore down, and straight uprose 
A mighty shout : 

" Sons of the Greeks, advance ! 
Your country free, your children free, your wives, — 
The altars of your native gods deliver, 
And your ancestral tombs, — all's now at stake ! " 
A like salute from our whole line back rolled 
In Persian speech. Nor more delay, but straight 
Trireme on trireme, brazen beak, on beak, 
Dashed furious. A Greek ship led on the attack, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 229 

And from the prow of a Phoenician struck 

The figure head ; and now the grapple closed 

Of each ship with his adverse desperate. 

At first the main line of the Persian fleet 

Stood the harsh shock : but soon their multitude 

Became their ruin : in the narrow frith 

They might not use their strength, and, jammed together, 

Their ships with brazen beaks did bite each other, 

And shattered their own oars. Meanwhile the Greeks 

Stroke after stroke dealt dexterous all around, 

Till our ships showed their keels, and the blue sea 

Was seen no more, with multitude of ships 

And corpses covered. All the shores were strewn, 

And the rough rocks, with dead : till, in the end, 

Each ship in the barbaric host, that yet 

Had oars, in most disordered flight rowed off. 

As men that fish for tunnies, so the Greeks, 

With broken booms, and fragments of the wreck, 

Struck our snared men, and hacked them, that the sea 

With wail and moaning was possessed around, 

Till black-eyed Night shot darkness o'er the fray. 

CLOSE OF THE ORATION ON THE CROWN « 

Demosthenes 

Because of the failure of the Athenian opposition to Philip 
of Macedon, iEschines protested against the award of the cus- 
tomary civic crown to Demosthenes. Demosthenes replied in 
what is regarded as the greatest masterpiece of ancient elo- 
quence. In conclusion, after reviewing his course and chal- 
lenging his rival to point out a better one, he spoke as 
follows [condensed from Jebb's translation, with a few verbal 
changes] : — 



230 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I say that, if the event had been manifest to the whole 
world beforehand, if all men had been fully aware of it, 
if you, iEschines, who never opened your lips, had been 
ever so loud or so shrill in prophecy or in protest, not even 
then ought Athens to have forsaken this course, if Athens 
had any regard for her glory, or for her past, or for the 
ages to come. Now, of course, she seems to have failed ; 
but failure is for all men when Heaven so decrees. In 
the other case, she, who claims the first place in Greece, 
would have renounced it, and would have incurred the 
reproach of having betrayed all Greece to Philip. But 
in the whole course of her annals, no one could ever per- 
suade Athens to side with dishonest strength, to accept a 
secure slavery, or to desist, at any moment in her career, 
and from doing battle and braving danger for preeminence, 
for honor/ and for renown. 

The Athenians of old were not in search of an orator 
or a general who should help them to an agreeable servi- 
tude. No, they would not hear of life itself if they were 
not to live free. Each one of them held that he had been 
born the son, not only of his father and his mother, but 
of his country also. And wherein is the difference ? It 
is here. He that recognizes no debt of piety save to his 
parents awaits his death in the course of destiny and of 
nature. But he that deems himself the son of his country 
also will be ready to die sooner than see her enslaved. 

Never, Athenians, never can it be said that you erred 
when you imperiled yourselves for the freedom and the 
safety of all. No, by our fathers who met the danger of 
Marathon ; no, by our fathers who stood in the ranks at 
Platsea ; no, by our fathers who did battle on the waters 
of Salamis and Artemision ; no, by all the brave who sleep 
in tombs at which their country paid those last honors 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 231 

which she had awarded, iEschines, to all of them alike, 
not alone to the successful or the victorious ! And her 
award was just. The part of brave men had been done 
by all. The fortune experienced by the individual among 
them had been allotted by a power above man. 

Here is the proof. Not when my extradition was de- 
manded, not when they sought to arraign me before the 
Amphictyonic Council, not for all their menaces or their 
offers, not when they set these villains like wild beasts 
upon me, have I ever been untrue to the loyalty I bear 
you. I do not go about the market place radiant with 
joy at my country's disasters. I do not hear of my coun- 
try's successes with a shudder and a groan and a head bent 
to earth, like the wretches who pull Athens to pieces, as if, 
in so doing, they were not tearing their own reputations to 
shreds, who turn their faces to foreign lands, and, when an 
alien has triumphed by the ruin of the Greeks, give their 
praises to that exploit, and vow that vigilance must be 
used to render that triumph eternal. 

Never, powers of heaven, may any brow of the im- 
mortals be bent in approval of that prayer. Rather, if 
it may be, breathe even into these men a better mind and 
heart ; but if so it is that to these can come no healing, 
then grant that these, and these alone, may perish utterly 
and early on land and on the deep : and to us, the remnant, 
send the swiftest deliverance from the terrors gathered 
above our heads, send us the salvation that stands fast 
perpetually. 



232 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

THE DEATH OF HERMINIUS 
Macaulay 

Arranged from The Battle of Lake Regillus 

But north looked the Dictator ; 

North looked he long and hard ; 
And spake to Caius Cossus, 

The Captain of his Guard : 
" Caius, of all the Romans 

Thou hast the keenest sight ; 
Say, what through yonder storm of dust 

Comes from the Latian right ? " 

Then answered Caius Cossus : 

" I see an evil sight ; 
The banner of proud Tusculum 

Comes from the Latian right ; 
I see the plumed horsemen ; 

And far before the rest 
I see the dark gray charger, 

I see the purple vest ; 
I see the golden helmet 

That shines far off like flame ; 
So ever rides Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name." 

" Now hearken, Caius Cossus : 
Spring on thy horse's back ; 

Ride as the wolves of Apennine 
Were all upon thy track ; 

Haste to our southward battle : 
And never draw thy rein 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 233 

Until thou find Herminius, 
And bid him come amain." 

So Aulus spake, and turned him 

Again to that fierce strife ; 
And Caius Cossus mounted, 

And rode for death and life. 
So came he far to southward, 

Where fought the Roman host, 
Against the banners of the marsh 

And banners of the coast. 
Like corn before the sickle 

The stout Lavinians fell, 
Beneath the edge of the true sword 

That kept the bridge so well. 

" Herminius ! Aulus greets thee ; 

He bids thee come with speed, 
To help our central battle ; 

For sore is there our need. 
There wars the youngest Tarquin, 

And there the Crest of Flame, 
The Tusculan Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name. 
Valerius hath fallen fighting 

In front of our array : 
And Aulus of the seventy fields 

Alone upholds the day." 

Herminius beat his bosom : 

But never a word he spake. 
He clapped his hand on Auster's mane ; 

He gave the reins a shake, 



234 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Away, away went Auster, 

Like an arrow from the bow : 

Black Auster was the fleetest steed 
From Aufidus to Po. 

Right glad were all the Romans 

Who, in that hour of dread, 
Against great odds bare up the war 

Around Valerius dead, 
When from the south the cheering 

Rose with a mighty swell ; 
" Herminius comes, Herminius, 

Who kept the bridge so well ! " 

Mamilius spied Herminius, 

And dashed across the way. 
" Herminius ! I have sought thee 

Through many a bloody day. 
One of us two, Herminius, 

Shall never more go home. 
I will lay on for Tusculum, 

And lay thou on for Rome ! " 

All round them paused the battle, 

While met in mortal fray 
The Roman and the Tusculan, 

The horses black and gray. 
Herminius smote Mamilius 

Through breastplate and through breast ; 
And fast flowed out the purple blood 

Over the purple vest. 
Mamilius smote Herminius 

Through headpiece and through head ; 
And side by side those chiefs of pride 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 235 

Together fell down dead. 
Down fell they dead together 

In a great lake of gore ; 
And still stood all who saw them fall 

While men might count a score. 

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning, 

The dark gray charger fled : 
He burst through ranks of fighting men ; 

He sprang o'er heaps of dead. 

But, like a graven image, 

Black Auster kept his place, 
And ever wistfully he looked 

Into his master's face. 
Forth with a shout sprang Titus, 

And seized black Auster's rein. 
Then Aulus swore a fearful oath, 

And ran at him amain. 
u The furies of thy brother 

With me and mine abide, 
If one of your accursed house 

Upon black Auster ride ! " 
As on an Alpine watchtower 

From heaven conies down the flame, 
Full on the neck of Titus 

The blade of Aulus came : 
The knees of all the Latines 

Were loosened with dismay 
When dead, on dead Herminius, 

The bravest Tarquin lay. 

" Rome to the charge ! " cried Aulus ; 
" The foe begins to yield ! 



236 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Charge for the hearth of Vesta ! 

Charge for the Golden Shield ! 
Now bear me well, black Auster, 

Into yon thick array ; 
And thon and I will have revenge 

For thy good lord this day." 

Then the fierce trumpet flourish 

From earth to heaven arose. 
The kites know well the long stern swell 

That bids the Romans close. 
Then the good sword of Aulus 

Was lifted up to slay : 
Then like a crag down Apennine, 

Rushed Auster through the fray. 

Then underfoot was trampled, 

Amidst the mud and gore, 
The banner of proud Tusculum, 

That never stooped before : 
And in the back false Sextus 

Felt the good Roman steel, 
And wriggling in the dust he died, 

Like a worm beneath the wheel : 
And fliers and pursuers 

Were mingled in a mass ; 
And far away the battle 

Went roaring through the pass. 



.MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 237 

Spartacus to the Gladiators 

Elijah Kellogg 

It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, return- 
ing with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the 
sports of the amphitheater. The shouts of revelry had died 
away. The roar of the lion had ceased. The last loiterer had 
retired from the banquet ; and the lights in the palace of the 
victor were extinguished. 

In the deep recess of the amphitheater a band of gladiators 
were assembled. Their muscles were still knotted with the 
agony of conflict. The foam was upon their lips, and the 
scowl of battle yet lingered upon their brows ; when Spartacus, 
rising in their midst, thus addressed them : — 

Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief, who, 
for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every 
shape of man or beast the broad empire of Rome could 
furnish ; and who never yet lowered his arm. If there be 
one among you who can say that ever in public fight or 
private brawl my actions did belie my tongue, let him 
stand forth and say it. If there be three in all your com- 
pany dare face me on the bloody sands, let them come on. 

And yet I was not always thus — a hired butcher, a 
savage chief of still more savage men ! My ancestors 
came from old Sparta, and settled among the vine-clad 
rocks and citron groves of Cyrasella. My early life ran 
quiet as the brooks by which I sported ; and when, at 
noon, I gathered the sheep beneath the shade, and played 
upon the shepherd's flute, there was a friend, the son of a 
neighbor, to join me in the pastime. We led our flocks 
to the same pasture, and partook together our rustic meal. 

One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we were 



238 SCHOOL SPEAKEK 

all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our cottage, 
my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon and 
Leuctra ; and how, in ancient times, a little band of 
Spartans in a defile of the mountains had withstood a 
whole army. I did not then know what war was ; but 
my cheeks burned, I knew not why, and I clasped the 
knees of that venerable man, until my mother, parting 
the hair from off my forehead, kissed my throbbing 
temples, and bade me go to rest and think no more of 
those old tales and savage wars. 

That very night the Romans landed on our coast. I 
saw the breast that had nourished me trampled by the 
hoof of the war horse — the bleeding body of my father 
flung amid the blazing rafters of our dwelling ! 

To-day I killed a man in the arena ; and, when I broke 
his helmet clasps, behold ! he was my friend. He knew 
me, smiled faintly, gasped, and died — the same sweet 
smile upon his lips that I had marked, when, in ad- 
venturous boyhood, we scaled the lofty cliff to pluck the 
first ripe grapes, and bear them home in childish triumph ! 
I told the prsetor that the dead man had been my friend, 
generous and brave; and I begged that I might bear 
away the body, to burn it on a funeral pile and mourn 
over its ashes. Aye ! upon my knees, amid the dust and 
blood of the arena, I begged that poor boon, while all the 
assembled maids and matrons, and the holy virgins they 
call Vestals, and the rabble shouted in derision, deeming 
it rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator 
turn pale and tremble at sight of that piece of bleeding 
clay ! And the praetor drew back as I were pollution, 
and sternly said — " Let the carrion rot ; there are no 
noble men but Romans ! " And so, fellow-gladiators, 
must you, and so must I, die like dogs. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 239 

O Rome ! Rome ! thou hast been a tender nurse to me. 
Aye ! thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd- 
lad, who never knew a harsher tone than a flute note, 
muscles of iron and a heart of flint ; taught him to drive 
the sword through plaited mail and links of rugged brass, 
and warm it in the marrow of his foe, — to gaze into the 
glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian lion, even as a 
boy upon a laughing girl ! And he shall pay thee back, 
until the yellow Tiber is red as frothing wine, and in its 
deepest ooze thy lifebloocl lies curdled ! 

Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are ! The strength 
of brass is in your toughened sinews ; but to-morrow 
some Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume from his 
curly locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn, 
and bet his sesterces upon your blood. Hark ! hear ye 
yon lion roaring in his den ? 'Tis three days since he 
tasted flesh ; but to-morrow he shall break his fast upon 
yours — and a dainty meal for him ye will be ! 

If ye are beasts, then stand here like fat oxen, waiting 
for the butcher's knife ! If ye are men, — follow me ! 
Strike down yon guard, gain the mountain passes, and 
there do bloody work, as did your sires at old Ther- 
mopylaB ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old Grecian spirit 
frozen in your veins, that ye do crouch and cower like 
a belabored hound beneath his master's lash ? O com- 
rades ! warriors ! Thracians ! — if we must fight, let us 
fight for ourselves ! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter 
our oppressors ! If we must die, let us die under the free 
sky, by the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle ! 



240 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

IN A THEATER 
London Academy, translated from A. Werner 

[Capua, 72 B.C.] 

We were friends and comrades loyal, tho' I was of alien 

race, 
And he a freeborn Samnite that followed the man from 

Thrace, 
And there, in the mid-arena, he and I stood face to face. 
I was a branded swordsman, and he was supple and strong. 
They saved us alive from the battle to do us this crudest 

wrong, 
That each should slay the other there before the staring 

throng. 

Faces — faces — and faces ! how it made my brain to 

spin ! 
Beautiful faces of women, and tiger souls therein ! 
And merry faces of girls that laughed, debating of who 

should win. 

Over us burning and cloudless, dazzled the blue sky's 

dome : 
Far away to the eastward the white snowpeaks of his 

home ; 
And in front, the prefect, purple clad, in the deadly might 

of Rome. 

And so, in the mid-arena, we stood there, face to face, 
And he looked me right in the eyes and said : " I ask thee 

one last grace — 
Slay me, for thee I cannot." Then I held his hand a 

space, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 241 

But knew not what I answered ; the heavens round and 

wide 
Surged up and down — a flash of steel — my sword was 

through his side, 
And I was down upon my knees, and held him as he 

died. 

His blood was warm on my fingers, his eyes were scarcely 

still, 
When they tore him from me, and the blade that else had 

healed all ill. 
And it is one more day that I am theirs, to work their 

will. 

No matter ! the sand, and the sun, and the faces hateful 

to see, 
They will be nothing — nothing ! But I wonder who 

may be 
The other man I have to fight — the man that shall kill 

me? 

ORATION AGAINST CATILINE 

Cicero 

How long, O Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience ? 
How long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career? To 
what extreme wilt thou carry thy audacity? Art thou 
nothing daunted by the nightly watch, posted to secure 
the Palatium ! Nothing, by the city guards ? Nothing, 
by the rally of all good citizens ? Nothing, by the assem- 
bling of the Senate in this fortified place? Nothing, by 
the averted looks of all here present ? Seest thou not that 
all thy plots are exposed? that thy wretched conspiracy is 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 16 



242 school SPEAKEB 

laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the Senate? 
that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night ; 
of the night before ; the place of meeting, the company 
convoked, the measures concerted? Alas, the times ! 
Alas, the public morals ! The Senate understands all 
this. The Consul sees it. Yet the traitor lives ! Lives ? 
Aye, truly, and confronts us here in council, takes part in 
our deliberations, and, with his measuring eye, marks out 
each man of us for slaughter. And we, all this while, 
strenuous that we are, think we have amply discharged 
our duty to the state, if we but shun this madman's sword 
and fury. 

Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to have 
ordered thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head 
the ruin thou hast been meditating against others. There 
was that virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was 
held more execrable than the deadliest foe. We have a 
law still, Catiline, for thee. Think not that we are pow- 
erless, because forbearing. We have a decree, — though 
it rests among our archives like a sword in its scabbard, 
— a decree by which thy life would be made to pay the 
forfeit of thy crimes. And, should I order thee to be 
instantly seized and put to death, I make just doubt 
whether all good men would not think it done rather too 
late than any man too cruelly. 

But, for good reasons, I will yet defer the blow long 
since deserved. Then will I doom thee, when no man is 
found so lost, so wicked, nay, so like thyself, but shall 
confess that it was justly dealt. While there is one man 
that dares defend thee, live ! But thou shalt live so 
beset, so surrounded, so scrutinized, by the vigilant guards 
that I have placed around thee, that thou shalt not stir a 
foot against the republic, without my knowledge. There 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 243 

shall be eyes to detect thy slightest movement, and ears 
to catch thy slightest whisper, of which thou shalt not 
dream. The darkness of night shall not cover thy trea- 
son, — the walls of privacy shall not stifle its voice. Baf- 
fled on all sides, thy most secret counsels clear as noonday, 
what canst thou now have in view ? Proceed, plot, con- 
spire, as thou wilt; there is nothing you can contrive, 
nothing you can propose, nothing you can attempt, which 
I shall not know, hear, and promptly understand. Thou 
shalt soon be made aware that I am even more active in 
providing for the preservation of the state, than thou in 
plotting its destruction. 



CATO ON IMMORTALITY 

Addison 

It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ! 

Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 

This longing after immortality ? 

Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 

Of falling into naught ? Why shrinks the soul 

Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 

'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 

'Tis Heaven itself that points out a hereafter, 

And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 

Through what variety of untried being, 

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ! 

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me : 

But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 

Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, — 

And that there is, all Nature cries aloud 



244 school SPEAKER 

Through all her works, — lie must delight in virtue; 
And that which He delights in must be happy. 
But when? or where? This world was made for Ca3sar. 
I'm weary of conjectures, — this must end them. 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 
Thus am I doubly armed. My death and life, 
My bane and antidote, are both before me. 
This in a moment brings me to my end ; 
But this informs me I shall never die. 
The soul, secure in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years ; 
But thou shalt nourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt amid the war of elements, 
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 



Antony's lament oyer c^esae, 

Julius Ccesar 
Shakespeare 

O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, 

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ! 

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 

That ever lived in the tide of times, 

Woe to the hand that sheds this costly blood ! 

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — 

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, 

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, — 

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 245 

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; 
Blood and destruction shall be so in use 
And dreadful objects so familiar, 
That mothers shall but smile when they behold 
Their infants quarter' d with the hands of war ; 
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds : 
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
With Ate by his side come hot from hell, 
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice 
Cry " Havoc," and let slip the dogs of war ; 
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth 
With carrion men, groaning for burial. 



ANTOXY'S ORATIOX OVER CAESAR 

Arranged from Julius Ccesar 

Shakespeare 

Friends, Romans, countrymen ! lend me your ears. 

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them ; 

The good is oft interred with their bones : 

So let it be with Caesar ! The noble Brutus 

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : — 

If it were so it was a grievous fault ; 

And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it ! 

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest — 

For Brutus is an honorable man ! 

So are they all ! all honorable men, — 

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me, — 
But Brutus says he was ambitious : 



246 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And Brutus is an honorable man ! 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept. 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff ! — 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man ! 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
•Which he did thrice refuse : was this ambition ? — 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
And sure he is an honorable man ! 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke; 
But here I. am to speak what I do know. 
You all did love him once ; not without cause : 
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him ? 
O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason ! Bear with me, 
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
And I must pause till it comes back to me. 

But yesterday the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the world ; — now lies he there, 

And none so poor to do him reverence ! 

masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know, are honorable men ! — 

I will not do them wrong : I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men ! — 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 247 

But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar, 
I found it in his closet, — 'tis his will ! 
Let but the commons hear this testament, — 
Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read, — 
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue ! 

You will compel me, then, to read the will? 
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
And let me show you him that made the will. 

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 

You all do know this mantle ; I remember 

The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 

'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; 

That day he overcame the Nervii. — 

Look ! In this place ran Cassius' dagger through ; 

See what a rent the envious Casca made ; 

Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed, 

And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 

Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it ! 

As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 

If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no ; 

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel ; 

Judge, O ye gods, how dearly Caesar loved him ! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all ; 

For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 

Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart ; 



248 school SPEAKER 

And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 

Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 

Oh, now you weep ! and I perceive you feel 

The dint of pity ; — these are gracious drops. 

Kind souls ! What, weep you when you but behold 

Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look ye here ! 

Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors. 

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 

To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 

They that have done this deed are honorable ! 

What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not, 

That made them do it. They are wise and honorable, 

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 

I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 

But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 

That love my friend ; and that they know full well 

That gave me public leave to speak of him. 

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 

To stir men's blood ; — I only speak right on ; 

I tell you that which you yourself do know ; 

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 

And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, 

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Caesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 249 

THE WIDOW OF NAIN 

N. P. Willis 

The Roman sentinel stood helmed and tall 

Beside the gate of Nain. 

Upon his spear the soldier leaned, and kept 

His drowsy watch, and as his waking dream 

Was broken by the solitary foot 

Of some poor mendicant, he raised his lids, 

To curse him for a tributary Jew, 

And slumberously dozed on. 

'Twas now high noon. 
The dull, low murmur of a funeral 
Went through the city. 

The broad gate 
Swung on its hinges, and the Roman bent 
His spear point downwards as the bearers passed, 
Bending beneath their burden. There was one — 
Only one mourner. Close behind the bier, 
Crumpling the pall up in her withered hands, 
Followed an aged woman. Her slow steps 
Faltered with weakness, and a broken moan 
Fell from her lips, thickened convulsively 
As her heart bled afresh. The pitying crowd 
Followed apart, but no one spoke to her, — 
She had no kinsmen. She had lived alone, — 
A widow with one son. He was her all, — 
The only tie she had in the wide world, — 
And this was he. They could not comfort her. 

Jesus drew near to Nain ; as they came near 
The place of burial, and with straining hands 



250 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Closer upon her breast she clasped the pall, 

And with a hurried sob, quick as a child's, 

And an inquiring wildness flashing through 

The thin gray lashes of her fevered eyes, 

She passed where Jesus stood beside the way. 

He looked upon her, and his heart was moved. 

" Weep not ! " he said, and as they stayed the bier, 

And at his bidding set it at his feet, 

He gently drew the pall from out her hands, 

And laid it back in silence from the dead. 

With troubled wonder the mute crowd drew near 

And gazed on his calm looks. A minute's space 

He stood and prayed. Then, taking the cold hand, 

He said, " Arise ! " — and instantly the breast 

Heaved in its cerements, and a sudden flush 

Ran through the lines of the divided lips, 

And, with a murmur of his mother's name, 

He trembled and sat upright in his shroud, 

And while the mourner hung upon his neck — 

Jesus went calmly on his way to Nain. 



paul's defense before agrippa 

Bible 

Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to 
speak for thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand, 
and answered for himself : I think myself happy, King 
Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself this day before 
thee touching all the things whereof I am accused of the 
Jews : especially because I know thee to be expert in all 
customs and questions which are among the Jews : where- 
fore I beseech thee to hear me patiently. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 251 

My manner of life from my youth, which was at the 
first among mine own nation at Jerusalem, know all the 
Jews ; which knew me from the beginning, if they would 
testify, that after the most straitest sect of our religion I 
lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and am judged for 
the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers : 
unto which promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving 
God day and night, hope to come. For which hope's 
sake, King Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews. 

Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, 
that God should raise the dead ? I verily thought with 
myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the 
name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing I also did in 
Jerusalem : and many of the saints did I shut up in 
prison, having received authority from the chief priests ; 
and when they were put to death, I gave my voice against 
them. And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and 
compelled them to blaspheme ; and being exceedingly 
mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange 
cities. 

Whereupon as I went to Damascus with authority and 
commission from the chief priests, at midday, O king, I 
saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness 
of the sun, shining round about me and them which jour- 
neyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the 
earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in 
the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? 
it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And I said, 
Who art thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus whom 
thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet : for 
I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee 
a minister and a witness both of these things which thou 
hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear 



252 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

unto thee ; delivering thee from the people, and from the 
Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, 
and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the 
power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgive- 
ness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanc- 
tified by faith that is in me. 

Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient 
unto the heavenly vision : but showed first unto them of 
Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the 
coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should 
repent and turn to God, and do Avorks meet for repent- 
ance. For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, 
and went about to kill me. Having therefore obtained 
help of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to 
small and great, saying none other things than those 
which the prophets and Moses did say should come : that 
Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first that 
should rise from the dead, and should show light unto the 
people, and to the Gentiles. 

And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a 
loud voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself ; much learning 
doth make thee mad. 

But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus ; but 
speak forth the words of truth and soberness. For the 
king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak 
freely: for I am persuaded that none of these things are 
hidden from him ; for this thing was not done in a corner. 

King Agrippa, belie vest thou the prophets ? I know 
that thou belie vest. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost 
thou persuadest me to be a Christian. And Paul said, I 
would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear 
me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am, 
except these bonds. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 253 

And when he had thus spoken, the king rose up, and 
the governor, and Bernice, and they that sat with them : 
and when they were gone aside, they talked between them- 
selves, saying, This man doeth nothing worthy of death 
or of bonds. Then said Agrippa unto Festus, This man 
might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed 
unto Caesar. 

RIENZI TO THE ROMANS 

Mary Russell Mitford 

I come not here to talk. You know too well 
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beams 
Fall on a slave ; not such as, swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror led 
To crimson glory and undying fame, — 
But base, ignoble slaves ; slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, 
Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; 
Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great 
In that strange spell, — a name ! 

Each hour dark fraud, 
Or open rapine, or protected murder, 
Cries out against them. But this very day, 
An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, — 
Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 
The badge of Ursini ! because, forsooth, 
He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
At sight of that great ruffian ! 



254 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye, 

I had a brother once — a gracious boy, 

Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 

Of sweet and quiet joy ; there was the look 

Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 

To the beloved disciple. 

How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheek ; a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour 
That pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance ! Rouse, ye Romans ! Rouse, ye slaves ! 
Have ye brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored ; and if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash. 

Yet this is Rome 
That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne 
Of beauty ruled the world ! and we are Romans. 
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! 

And once again, — 
Hear me, ye walls that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! Once again, I swear, 
The eternal city shall be free. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 255 

rabiah's defense 

Thomas Wextworth Higgixsox 

Go not away from us ; stay, O Rabiah, son of Mukad ! 
Soft may the clouds of dawn spread dew on thy grassy 

grave, 
Rabiah, the long-locked boy, who guardedst thy women, 

dead. 

Fast rode the fleeing band, straight for the pass al-Khadid, 
M other and daughters, wives, and Rabiah the only man, 
Fleeing for honor and life through lands of a vengeful 

tribe. 
Sudden a moving cloud came swift o'er the hill behind. 
Dark rode the men of Sulaim, and Death rode dark in 

their midst. 
" Save us ! " the mother cried. " O boy, thou must fight 

alone ! " 
" Hasten, ride ! " he said, calm. " I only draw rein till a 

wind 
Blowing this dust away gives place to look for the foe." 
His sisters moaned, " He deserts ! " " Have you known 

it?" Rabiah cried. 
The women rode and rode. When the dust cleared, his 

arrows sprang 
Straight at the following foe : the pride of their host went 

down. 
Swift turned Rabiah his mare, and o'ertook his retreating 

kin ; 
Halting to face again as the men of Sulaim closed round. 
Once more his mother called : " Charge thou again, O son ! 
Keep off their hands from us all, meet them with shaft on 

shaft." 



256 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Still he kept turning and aimed, till every arrow was gone ; 
Still rode the women on ; by sunset the pass was near. 
Still the black horses came, and Rabiah drew his sword, 
Checked for the last time there, and face to face with a clan. 

Then rode Nubaishah up, son of the Habib, 

Thrust young Rabiah through, and cried aloud, "He is 

slain ! 
Look at the blood on my lance ! " Said Rabiah only, " A 

lie ! " 
Turned and galloped once more, and faced when he reached 

al-Khadid. 
There had the women paused, to enter the pass one by one. 
" Mother," he cried, " give me drink ! " She answered, 

" Drink, thou art dead, 
Leaving thy women slaves. First save thou thy women, 

then die ! " 
" Bind up my wound," he said ; she bound with her veil. 

He sang, 
" I was a hawk that drove the tumult of frightened birds, 
Diving deep with my blows, before and again behind. " 
Then she said, " Smite again ! " and he, where the pass 

turns in, 
Sat upright on his steed, barring the road once more. 
Then drew the death-chill on ; he leaned his head on his 

spear, 
Dim in the twilight there, with the shadows darkening 

down. 
Never a dog of Sulaim came up, but they watched and 

watched. 
The mare moved never a hoof ; the rider was still as she ; 
Till sudden Nubaishah shrieked, " His head droops down 

on his neck ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 257 

He is dead, I tell you, dead ! Shoot one true shaft at his 

mare ! " 
The mare started, she sprang ; and Rabiah fell, stone cold. 
— Far and away through the pass the women were safe in 

their homes. 

Then up rode a man of Sulaim, struck Rabiah hard with 

his spear, 
Saying, " Thou Pride of God, thou alone of mortals wast 

brave. 
Never a man of our tribe but would for his women die'; 
Never before lived one who guarded them yet, though 

dead ! " 



THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 
H. W. Longfellow 

[Abridged] 

"This ballad was suggested to me while riding on the seashore at 
Newport. A year or two previous a skeleton had been dug up at Fall 
River, clad in broken and corroded armor ; and the idea occurred to me 
of connecting it with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known 
hitherto as the Old Windmill, though now claimed by the Danes as a 
work of their early ancestors." — Note by Mr. Longfellow. 

" Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armor drest 

Comest to daunt me ! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms, 

Why dost thou haunt me ? " 

SOD. SCH. SPEA. — 17 



258 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Then, from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise, 
As when the Northern skies 

Gleam in December ; 
And, like the water's flow 
Under December's snow, 
Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart's chamber. 

" I was a Viking old ! 

My deeds, though manifold, 

No Skald in song has told, 

No Saga taught thee ! 
Take heed, that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse, 
Else dread a dead man's curse ; 

For this I sought thee. 

" Far in the Northern Land, 
By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the gerfalcon ; 
And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half -frozen Sound, 
That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 

" But when I older grew, 
Joining a corsair's crew, 
O'er the dark sea I flew 
With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led : 
Many the souls that sped, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 259 

Many the hearts that bled, 
By our stern orders. 

" I wooed a blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid, 
As in the forest's shade 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast, 
Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted. 

" Bright in her father's hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall, 
Loud sang the minstrels all, 

Chanting his glory ; 
When of old Hildebrand 
I asked his daughter's hand, 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 

" She was a Prince's child, 

I but a Viking wild, 

And though she blushed and smiled, 

I was discarded ! 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea mew's flight, 
Why did they leave that night 

Her nest unguarded? 

" Scarce had I put to sea, 
Bearing the maid with me, — 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen ! — 



260 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

When on the white sea strand 
Waving his armed hand, 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 
With twenty horsemen. 

" Then launched they to the blast, 
Bent like a reed each mast, 
Yet we were gaining fast, 

When the wind failed us ; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw, 
So that our foe we saw 

Laugh as he hailed us. 

" And as to catch the gale 
Round veered the flapping sail, 
Death ! was the helmsman's hail, 

Death without quarter ! 
Midships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
Down her black hulk did reel 

Through the black water ! 

" As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, 
Seeking some rocky haunt, 

With his prey laden, 
So toward the open main, 
Beating to sea again, 
Through the wild hurricane, 

Bore I the maiden. 

" Three weeks we westward bore, 
And when the storm was o'er, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 261 

Cloudlike we saw the shore 

Stretching to leeward ; 
There for my lady's bower 
Built I the lofty tower 
Which, to this very hour, 

Stands looking seaward. 

" There lived we many years ; 
Time dried the maiden's tears ; 
She had forgot her fears, 

She was a mother ; 
Death closed her mild blue eyes, 
Under that tower she lies ; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 

On such another ! 

" Still grew my bosom then, 
Still as a stagnant fen ! 
Hateful to me were men, 

The sunlight hateful ! 
In the vast forest here, 
Clad in my warlike gear, 
Fell I upon my spear, 

O, death was grateful ! 

" Thus, seamed with many scars, 
Bursting these prison bars, 
Up to its native stars 

My soul ascended ! 
There from the flowing bowl, 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal! to the Northland ! skoal! " 

Thus the tale ended. 



262 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

A LOST LEGEND 
F. W. BOURDILLON 

St. Wilfrid once, aware of love grown cold, 

And faith but lukewarm in his northern fold, 

While ev'n the few who failed not to be shriven 

Sought less for peace than feared to forfeit Heaven, 

Announced for an approaching festival 

Tidings of infinite import to all. 

And when the close-packed church expectant stood, 

Down from its place he threw the holy rood, 

Crying : " My brethren, know that Armageddon 

Is fought and lost ! The saints of God, though led on 

By Michael and his angels, were o'erthrown ; 

And Satan occupies the heavenly throne. 

All is reversed ; 'tis sinners who will dwell 

Henceforth in Heaven, while saints must burn in Hell. 

Myself, alas ! too zealous have I striven 

On the Lord's side ! — no hope for me of Heaven. 

But you, my brethren, I have little doubt 

May yet find entrance, if you turn about. 

Only be speedy, for I have sure word 

That Judgment-day will be no more deferred ; 

And Satan's hosts are on the road to bind 

Whomever in the house of God they find. 

Go, sin while there is time ! Forsake the church, 

And leave me as your scape-goat in the lurch ! " 

All stared astonished ; and on many a face, 
Smug, smooth, and sanctimonious, a grimace 
Grew slowly, while the open sinner's laughter 
Rang loudly from the rood-loft to the rafter. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 263 

Then, swift as ants swarm from their threatened heap, 

Or from the opened pinfold rush the sheep, 

Forth streamed the congregation, thick and fast, 

Each only fearing to be found the last. 

The church was empty, and St. Wilfrid stood, 

Most grimly smiling, by the fallen rood ; 

When in a darkened corner he was ware 

Of some one kneeling, and a sobbing prayer : 

" O dear Lord Jesu ! I have followed Thee 

So long, and Thou hast loved me. Let me be 

Where Thou art, Jesu ! Rather will I dwell 

Than with Thy foes in Heaven with Thee in Hell ! " 

Then cried St. Wilfrid : " Blessed be thy name, 

Woman, that puttest my weak faith to shame! 

I thought but to convict the careless herd 

Of vain religion by an empty word. 

But now of thine example will I make 

A lesson that all sinners' souls shall wake, 

All saints' rekindle ; and that word of thine 

Shall to the world in golden letters shine." 

He stepped toward the woman ; the white head 
Lay on the withered hands ; she knelt there, dead. 



KING CANUTE 
W. M. Thackeray 

King Canute was weary-hearted ; he had reigned for years 

a score, 
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and 

robbing more ; 
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild 

seashore. 



264 SCHOOL 8PEAKEE 

" Something ails my gracious master," cried the Keeper of 

the Seal. 
" Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or the 

veal ? " 
" Pshaw ! " exclaimed the angry monarch. " Keeper, 'tis 

not that I feel. 

" 'Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my 

rest impair : 
Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no 

care ? 
Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary." — Some one cried, 

" The King's arm-chair ! " 

Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the 

Keeper nodded, 
Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two 

footmen able-bodied ; 
Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded. 

" Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, " over storm 

and brine, 
I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was glory 

like to mine ? " 
Loudly all the courtiers echoed : " Where is glory like to 

thine ? " 

" What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I now and 

old; 
These fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and 

cold ; 
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent 

mold ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 265 

" Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent ! at my bosom tears 

and bites ; 
Horrid, horrid tilings I look on, though I put out all the 

lights ; 
Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at 

nights. 

li Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious 
fires ; 

Mothers weeping, virgins screaming vainly for their slaugh- 
tered sires." — 

" Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, " every one 
admires. 

" But for such unpleasant bygones, cease, my gracious lord, 

to search, 
They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church; 
Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch. 

" Look ! the land is crowned with minsters, which your 

Grace's bounty raised ; 
Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are 

daily praised : 
You, my lord, to think of dying ? on my conscience I'm 

amazed ! " 

M Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, " that my end is draw- 
near." 

" Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to 
squeeze a tear). 

u Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this 
fifty year." 



266 school SPEAKER 

• l Live these fifty years ! " the Bishop roared, with actions 

made to suit. 
u Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of 

King Canute ! 
Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty 

will do't. 

" Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the 

hill, 
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon 

stand still ? 
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred 

will." 

"Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop?" 

Canute cried ; 
" Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly 

ride ! 
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the 

tide. 

" Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make 

the sign ? " 
Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, "Land and sea, my lord, 

are thine." 
Canute turned towards the ocean — " Back ! " he said, 

" thou foaming brine. 

" From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to re- 
treat ; 

Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's 
seat : 

Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my 
feet ! " 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 267 

But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar, 
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the 

shore ; 
Hack the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and court- 
iers bore. 

And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human 

clay, 
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and 

seas obey : 
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that 

day. 
. . . King Canute is dead and gone : parasites exist alway. 



THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL 

Adelaide A. Procter 

The fettered spirits linger in purgatorial pain, 

With penal fires effacing their last faint earthly stain, 

Which life's imperfect sorrow had tried to cleanse in vain. 

Yet on each feast of Mary their sorrow finds release, 

For the great Archangel Michael comes down and bids it 

cease ; 
And the name of these brief respites is called " Our Lady's 

Peace." 

Yet once — so runs the legend — when the Archangel came, 
And all these holy spirits rejoiced at Mary's name, 
One voice alone was wailing, still wailing on the same : 

" I am not cold or thankless, although I still complain ; 
I prize Our Lady's blessing, although it comes in vain 



2G8 school SPEAKER 

To still my bitter anguish or quench my ceaseless pain. 
( )n earth a heart that loved me, still lives and mourns me 

there, 
And the shadow of his anguish is more than I can bear ; 
All the torment that I suffer is the thought of his despair. 
The evening of my bridal, Death took my life away ; 
Not all love's passionate pleading could gain an hour's 

delay ; 
And he I left has suffered a whole year since that day. 
If I could only see him, — if I could only go 
And speak one word of comfort and solace, — then I know 
He would endure with patience, and strive against his 

woe." 

Thus the Archangel answered, " Your time of pain is brief, 
And soon the peace of Heaven will give }^ou full relief ; 
Yet if his earthly comfort so much outweighs your grief, 
Then through a special mercy I offer you this grace, — 
You may seek him who mourns you, and look upon his 

face, 
And speak to him of comfort, for one short minute's space; 
But when that time is ended, return here and remain 
A thousand years in torment, a thousand years in pain ; 
Thus dearly must you purchase the comfort he will gain." 

* * * * # # * 

The lime tree's shade at evening is spreading broad and 

wide ; 
Beneath their fragrant arches pace slowly side by side, 
In low and tender converse, a bridegroom and his bride. 
The night is calm and stilly, no other sound is there, 
Except their happy voices ; — what is that cold bleak air 
That passes through the lime trees, and stirs the bride- 
groom's hair ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 269 

While one low cry of anguish, like the last dying wail 

Of some dumb hunted creature, is borne upon the gale ; 

Why does the bridegroom shudder and turn so deadly 

pale ? 
******* 

Near Purgatory's entrance the radiant angels wait ; 
It was the great St. Michael who closed that gloomy gate 
When the poor wandering spirit came back to meet her 
fate. 

" Pass on," thus spoke the angel ; " Heaven's joy is deep 

and vast : 
Pass on, pass on, poor spirit, for heaven is yours at last ; 
In that one minute's anguish your thousand years have 

passed." 

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI 

Ballad 

John Keats 

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 

Alone and palely loitering ? 
The sedge has wither'd from the lake, 

And no birds sing. 

what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 
So haggard and so woebegone ? 

The squirrel's granary is full, 
And the harvest's done. 

1 see a lily on thy brow 

With anguish moist and fever dew, 
And on thy cheeks a fading rose 
Fast withereth too. 



270 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I met a lady in the meads, 

Full beautiful — a faery's child, 

Her hair was long, her foot was light, 
And her eyes were wild. 

1 made a garland for her head, 

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone ; 

She look'd at me as she did love, 
And made sweet moan. 

I set her on my pacing steed, 

And nothing else saw all day long, 

For sidelong would she bend, and sing, 
A faery's song. 

She found me roots of relish sweet, 
And honey wild, and manna due, 

And sure in language strange she said — 
"I love thee true." 

She took me to her elfin grot, 

And there she wept, and siglrd full sore, 
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes 

With kisses four. 

And there she lulled me asleep, 

And there I dream'd — Ah ! woe betide 

The latest dream I ever dream'd 
On the cold hill's side. 

I saw pale kings and princes too, 

Pale warriors, death-pale were they all ; 

They cried — " La Belle Dame sans Merci 
Hath thee in thrall ! " 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 271 

I saw their starved lips in the gloam, 

With horrid warning gaped wide, 
And I awoke and found me here, 

On the cold hill's side. 

And this is why I sojourn here, 

Alone and palely loitering, 
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake 

And no birds sing. 



THE BALLAD OF ALICE BRAND 
Scott 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis J and merle 2 are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

" O Alice Brand, my native land 

Is lost for love of you ; 
And we must hold by wood and wold, 

As outlaws wont to do. 

" O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright, 

And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 
That on the night of our luckless flight, 

Thy brother bold I slew." 

" O Richard ! if my brother died, 

'Twas but a fatal chance ; 
For darkling was the battle tried, 

And fortune sped the lance. 

1 Thrush. 2 Blackbird. 



27:2 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land, 
Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand." 

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 
So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 

On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 
Lord Richard's ax is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who wonn'd within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church, 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 

" Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 

The fairy's fatal green ? 

" Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christen'd man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For mutter' d word or ban. 

" Lay on him the curse of the wither'd heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die." 

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 
Though the birds have still'd their singing ; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard his fagots bringing. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 273 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 

Before Lord Richard stands, 
And, as he cross'd and bless'd himself, 
44 1 fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 

" That is made with bloody hands." 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 
" And if there's blood upon his hand, 

'Tis but the blood of deer." — 

" Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood ! 

It cleaves unto his hand, 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 

The blood of Ethert Brand." 

Then forward stepp'd she Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
" And if there's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 

" And I conjure thee, Demon elf, 

By Him whom Demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here?" 

" 'Tis merry, 'tis merry in Fairy -land, 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by the monarch's side, 

With bit and bridle ringing : 

"And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 

But all its glistening show, 
Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

sou. SCH. SPEA. — 18 



274 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

"It was between the night and day, 
When the Fairy King has power, 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatch'd away 
To the joyless elfin bower. 

" But wist I of a woman bold, 
Who thrice my brow durst sign, 

I might regain my mortal mold, 
As fair a form as thine." 

She cross'd him once — she cross'd him twice 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She cross'd him thrice, that lady bold ; 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mold, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 



GUALBERTO'S VICTORY 
Abridged 
Eleanor C. Donnelly 

A mountain pass so narrow that a man 
Riding that way to Florence, stooping, can 
Touch with his hand the rocks on either side, 
And pluck the flowers that in the crannies hide. 
Here, on Good Friday, centuries ago, 
Mounted and armed, John Gualbert met his foe ; 
Mounted and armed as well, but riding down 
To the fair city from the woodland brown. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 275 

" Back ! ,? cried Gualberto. "Never ! " yelled his foe ; 
And on the instant, sword in hand, they throw 
Them from their saddles, nothing loath, 
And fall to fighting with a smothered oath. 
Theirs was a long, fierce struggle on the grass, 
Thrusting and parrying up and down the pass ; 
Swaying from left to right, in combat clenched, 
Till all the housings of their steeds were drenched 
With brutal gore : and ugly blood-drops oozed 
Upon the rocks, from head and hands contused. 
But at the close, when Gualbert stopped to rest, 
His heel was planted on his foeman's breast ; 
And looking up, the fallen courtier sees, 
As in a dream, gray rocks and waving trees 
Before his glazing vision faintly float, 
While Gualbert's saber glitters at his throat. 

" Now die, base wretch ! " the victor fiercely cries, 
His heart of hate outflashing from his eyes : 
" Never again, by the all-righteous Lord ! 
Shalt thou with life escape this trusty sword, — 
Revenge is sweet ! " And upward glanced the steel. 
But ere it fell, — dear Lord ! a silvery peal 
Of voices chanting in the town below, 
Grave, ghostly voices, chanting far below, 
Rose, like a fountain's spray from spires of snow, 
And chimed and chimed to die in echoes slow. 

In the sweet silence following the sound, 
Gualberto and the man upon the ground 
Glared at each other with bewildered eyes 
(The glare of hunted deer or leashed hound) ; 
And then the vanquished, struggling to arise, 



276 school SPEAKER 

Made one Last effort, while his face grew dark 
With pleading agony : " Gualberto ! hark ! 
The chant — the hour — thou know'st the olden fashion,- 
The monks below intone our Lord's dear Passion, 
Oh ! by this cross ! " — and here he caught the hilt 
Of Gualbert's SAVord, — " and by the Blood once spilt 
Upon it for us both long years ago, 
Forgive — forget — and spare a fallen foe ! " 

The face that bent above grew white and set 

(Christ or the demon ? — in the balance hung) : 

The lips were drawn, — the brow bedewed with sweat,- 

But on the grass the harmless sword was flung : 

And stooping down, the hero, generous wrung 

The outstretched hand. Then, lest he lose control 

Of the but half -tamed passions of his soul, 

Fled up the pathway, tearing casque and coat 

To ease the tempest throbbing at his throat ; 

Fled up the crags, as if a fiend pursued, 

And paused not till he reached a chapel rude. 

There, in the cool dim stillness, on his knees, 

Trembling, he flings himself, and, startled, sees 

Set in the rock a crucifix antique, 

From which the wounded Christ bends down to speak, 

" Thou hast done well, Grualberto. For my sake 
Thou didst forgive thine enemy ; noiv take 
My gracious pardon for thy times of sin, 
And from this day a better life begin." 

White flashed the angels' wings above his head, 
Rare, subtile perfumes through the place were shed ', 
And golden harps and sweetest voices poured 
Their glorious hosannas to the Lord, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 277 

Who in that hour, and in that chapel quaint, 
Changed by His power, by His dear love's constraint, 
Gualbert the sinner into John the saint. 



LEGEND OF THE ORGAX BUILDER 
Abridged 
Julia C. R. Dorr 

Day by day the organ builder in his lonely chamber 

wrought, 
Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his 

thought, 
Till at last the work was ended, and no organ voice so 

grand 
Ever yet had soared responsive to the master's magic hand. 
Aye ! so rarely was it builded, that whenever groom and 

bride, 
Who in God's sight were well pleasing, in the church 

stood side by side, 
Without touch or breath, the organ of itself began to 

play, 
And the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom 

seemed to stray. 

All the maidens heard the story ; all the maidens blushed 
and smiled ; 

By his youth and wondrous beauty, and his great renown 
beguiled. 

So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding day 
was set ; — 

Happy day ! — the brightest jewel in the glad year's coro- 
net ! 



278 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

But, when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely 

bride. 
Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart swelled high 

with pride. 

"Ah ! " thought he, " how great a master am I ! when the 

organ plays, 
How the vast cathedral arches will reecho with my praise!" 
All was silent ! Nothing heard he, save the priest's low 

monotone, 
And the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor of fretted 

stone. 
Then his lips grew white with anger ; surely, God was 

pleased with him, 
Who had built the wondrous organ for his temple vast 

and dim ; 
Whose the fault then ? hers — the maiden standing meekly 

at his side. 
Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him 

— his bride. 
Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and 

truth, 
On that very night he left her, to her anguish and her 

ruth. 



Far he wandered, to a country wherein no man knew his 

name ; 
For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his 

wrath and shame ; 
Then, his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought, by 

night and day, 
Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 279 

Till liis yearning grief and penitence at last were all com- 
plete, 
And he longed with bitter longing just to fall down at 

her feet. 

******* 

Ah ! how throbbed his heart, when, after many a weary 

day and night, 
Rose his native towers before him, in the sunset glow 

alight ; 
Through the gates into the city, on he pressed with eager 

tread ; 
There he met a long procession — mourners following the 

dead. 
" Now, why weep ye so, good people, and whom bury ye 

to-day ? 
Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along 

the way ? 
Has some saint gone up to heaven?" — " Yes," they an- 
swered, weeping sore, 
" For the organ-builder's saintly wife our eyes shall see 

no more ! 
And because her days were given to the service of God's 

poor, 
From His church we mean to bury her. See yonder is 

the door." 
No one knew him, no one wondered, when he cried out 

white with pain ; 
No one questioned, when with pallid lips he poured his 

tears like rain. 
" 'Tis some one whom she has comforted who mourns 

with us," they said, 
As he made his way unchallenged and bore the coffin's 

head ; 



280 school SPEAKER 

Bore it through the open portal, bore it up the eehoing 

aisle, 
Set it down before the altar, where the lights burned clear 

the while ; — 
When, oh, hark ! the wondrous organ of itself began to 

play 
Strains of rare unearthly sweetness never heard until that 

day ; 
And ere yet the strain was ended, he, who bore the coffin's 

head, 
With the smile of one forgiven, gently sank beside it — 

dead ! 
They who raised the body knew him, and they laid him 

by his bride ; 
Down the aisle, and o'er the threshold they were carried 

side by side ; 
While the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard 

before, 
And then softly sank to silence — silence kept forever- 



THE FATHER S CURSE 

Le Roi S" 1 Amuse, Abridged 
Victor Hugo 

M. St. Villier (an aged nobleman, from whom King 
Francis I. decoyed his daughter, the famous beauty, 
Diana of Poitiers). A king should listen when 
his subjects speak : 
'Tis true your mandate led me to the block, 
Where pardon came upon me, like a dream ; 
I blessed you then, unconscious as I was 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 281 

That a king's mercy, sharper far than death, 
To save a father doomed his child to shame ; 
To save her father's life a knight she sought, 
Like Bayard, fearless and without reproach. 
She found a heartless king, who sold the boon, 
Making cold bargain for his child's dishonor. 
My blood was thine, and justly, tho' it springs 
Amongst the best and noblest names of France ; 
But to pretend to spare these poor gray locks, 
And yet to trample on a weeping woman, 
Was basely done ; the father was thine own, 
But not the daughter ! — thou hast overpassed 
The right of monarchs ! — yet 'tis mercy deemed, 
And I perchance am called ungrateful still. 
Oh, hadst thou come within my dungeon walls, 
I would have sued upon my knees for death, 
But mercy for my child, my name, my race, 
Which, once polluted, is my race no more. 
Rather than insult, death to them and me. 
I come not how to ask her back from thee ; 
Keep her ! Yet still, amidst thy festivals, 
Until some father's, brother's, husband's hand 
('Twill come to pass !) shall rid us of thy yoke, 
My pallid face shall ever haunt thee there, 
To tell thee, Francis, it was foully done ! . . . 

Triboulet (the Court Jester, sneering). The poor 
man raves. 

St. Villier. Accursed be ye both ! 
O Sire ! 'tis wrong upon the dying lion 
To loose thy dog ! (Turns to Triboulet.') 

And thou, whoe'er thou art, 
That with a fiendish sneer and viper's tongue 
Makest my tears a pastime and a sport, 



SCHOOL SPEAKER 

My curse upon thee! — Sire, thy brow doth bear 
The gems of France ! — on mine, old age doth sit; 
Thine decked with jewels, mine with these gray 

hairs ; 
We both are kings, yet wear a different crown ; 
And should some impious hand upon thy head 
I leap wrongs and insult, with thine own strong arm 
Thou canst avenge them ! God avenges mine ! 



THE HEART OF THE BRUCE 

Abridged 

W. E. Aytoun 

[Lord Douglas, who is voyaging, as he had promised, to bury the 
heart of Robert Bruce in the Holy Land, has a vision telling him that the 
heart must lie in Scotland : — 

" It shall pass beneath the cross, and save King Robert's vow, 
But other hands shall bear it back, not James of Douglas, thou." 

Entering a port of Spain, they find the king preparing to do battle with 
the Moors, and the Scotsmen go to his assistance. The king says : — ] 

" Now, is't for bond or faith you come, 

Or yet for golden fee ! 
Or to bring France's lilies here, 

Or the flower of Burgundie ? " 

" God grant thee well, thou gallant king, 

Thee and thy belted peers, 
Sir James of Douglas am I called, 

And these are Scottish spears. 

" We bring our great King Robert's heart 
Across the weltering wave, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 283 

To lay it in the holy soil 

Hard by the Saviour's grave." 

The king has bent his stately head, 

And the tears were in his eyne, 
" God's blessing on thee, noble knight, 

For this brave thought of thine ! 

" I know thy name full well, Lord James ; 

And honored may I be, 
That those who fought beside the Bruce 

Should fight this day for me ! " 

The trumpets blew, the crossbolts flew, 

The arrows flashed like flame, 
As spur in side, and spear in rest, 

Against the foe we came. 

And many a bearded Saracen 

Went down, both horse and man ; 
For through their ranks we rode like corn, 

So furiously we ran ! 

We might not see a lance's length, 

So dense was their array, 
But the long, fell sweep of the Scottish blade 

Still held them hard at bay. 

" Make in ! make in ! " Lord Douglas cried, 

" Make in, my brethren dear ! 
Sir William of St. Clair is down ; 

We may not leave him here ! " 

" Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James, 
" Thou kind and true St. Clair ! 






284 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

An' if I may not bring thee off, 
I'll die beside thee there ! " 

Then in his stirrups up he stood, 

So lionlike and bold, 
And held the precious heart aloft 

All in its case of gold. 

He flung it from him far ahead, 

And never spake he more 
But : " Pass thou first, thou dauntless heart, 

As thou wert wont of yore ! " 

The roar of fight rose fiercer yet, 

And heavier still the stour, 
Till the spears of Spain came shivering in, 

And swept away the Moor. 

" Now praised be God, the day is won ! 

They fly o'er flood and fell ; 
Why dost thou draw the rein so hard, 

Good knight that fought so well? " 

" Oh, ride ye on, lord king ! " he said, 

" And leave the dead to me, 
For I must keep the dreariest watch 

That ever I shall dree ! 

" There lies above his master's heart 
The Douglas, stark and grim ; 

And woe is me I should be here, 
Not side by side with him ! 

" The world grows cold, my arm is old, 
And thin my lyart hair, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 285 

And all that I loved best on earth 
Is stretched before me there. " 

The king he lighted from his horse, 

He flung his brand away, 
And took the Douglas by the hand, 

So stately as he lay. 

" God give thee rest, thou valiant soul ! 

That fought so well for Spain ; 
I'd rather half my land were gone, 

So thou wert here again ! " 

We bore the good Lord James away, 

And the priceless heart we bore, 
And heavily we steered our ship 

Toward the Scottish shore. 

We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk, 

The heart in fair Melrose ; 
And woeful men were we that day, — 

God grant their souls repose ! 



ZENOBIA TO HER PEOPLE 

William Ware 

I am charged with pride and ambition ; the charge is 
true, and I glory in its truth. Let the ambition be but a 
noble one, and who shall blame it ? I confess, I did once 
aspire to be queen, not only of Palmyra but of the East. 
That I am ; I now aspire to remain so. Is it not an hon- 
orable ambition ? Does it not become a descendant of 
the Ptolemies and of Cleopatra ? 



286 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I am applauded by you all for what 1 have already 

done ; you would not that it should have been less. Hut 
why pause here? Is so much ambition praiseworthy? 
and more, criminal? Is it fixed in nature that the limits 
of this empire should be Egypt on the one hand, the Hel- 
lespont and the Euxine on the other ? were not Suez and 
Armenia more natural limits? or hath empire no natural 
limit, but is broad as the genius that can devise and the 
power that can win ? 

Are not my people happy ? I look upon the past and 
the present, upon my nearer and remoter subjects, nor ask 
nor fear the answer. Whom have I wronged ? What 
province have I oppressed ? What city pillaged ? What 
region drained with taxes ? Whose life have I unjustly 
taken, or estates coveted or robbed ? Whose honor have 
I wantonly assailed ? Whose rights, though of the weak- 
est and poorest, have I trenched upon ? I dwell where I 
would ever dwell, in the hearts of my people. It is writ- 
ten in your faces that I reign not more over you, than 
within you. The foundation of my throne is not more 
power than love. 

This is no vain boasting, — receive it not so, good 
friends, — it is but truth. He who traduces himself, sins 
with him who traduces another. He who is unjust to 
himself or less than just, breaks a law as well as he who 
hurts his neighbor. I tell you what I am and what I 
have done, that your trust for the future may not rest 
upon ignorant grounds. If I am more than just to myself, 
rebuke me. If I have overstepped the modesty that be- 
came me, I am open to your censure and will bear it. 
But I have spoken that you may know your queen, not 
only by her acts, but by her admitted principles. I tell 
you, then, that I am ambitious, that I crave dominion, and 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 287 

while I live will reign. Sprung from a line of kings, a 
throne is my natural seat, — I love it. But I strive too, — 
you can bear me witness that I do, — that it shall be, 
while I sit upon it, an honored, unpolluted seat. If I can, 
T will hang a yet brighter glory around it. 



WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 

Sheridan Knowles 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! 
I hold to you the hands you first beheld, — 
To show they still are free ! Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
And bid your tenant welcome home again. — 

sacred forms, how fair, how proud you look ! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 
How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile 
Makes glad, whose frown is terrible ; whose forms, 
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 
Of awe divine ! Ye guards of liberty, 
I'm with you once again ! I call to you 
With all my voice ! I hold my hands to you, 
To show they still are free. I rush to you 
As though I could embrace you ! 

Scaling yonder peak, 

1 saw an eagle wheeling, near its brow, 
O'er the abyss. His broad expanded wings 
Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 

As if he floated there without their aid, 



288 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

By the sole act of his unlorded will, 

That buoyed him proudly up ! Instinctively 

1 bent my bow ; yet Avheeled he, heeding not 

The death that threatened him ! I could not shoot ! 

'Twas liberty ! I turned my bow aside, 

And let him soar away. 

THE EMPEROR'S RETURN 

Les Burgraves 
Victor Hugo 

The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, believed to be 
dead, appears as a beggar among the Rhenish nobility 
at a castle, and suddenly reveals himself. 

Hatto. This goodly masque but lacked a fool ! 
First gypsy ; next a beggar ; — good ! Thy name ? 

Barbarossa. Frederick of Swabia, Emperor of Almain. 

All. The Red Beard? 

Barbarossa. Aye, Frederick, by my mountain birth- 
right Prince 
O' th' Romans, chosen king, crowned emperor, 
Heaven's sword bearer, monarch of Burgundy 
And Aries — the tomb of Karl I dared profane, 
But have repented me on bended knees 
In penance 'midst the desert twenty years ; 
My drink the rain, the rocky herbs my food, 
Myself a ghost the shepherds fled before, 
And the world named me as among the dead. 
But I have heard my country call — come forth, 
Lifted the shroud — broken the sepulcher. 
This hour is one when dead men needs must rise. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 289 

Ye own me? Ye mind me marching through these vales 

When golden spur was ringing at my heel ? 

Now know me what I am, your master, earls ! 

Brave knights you deem ! You say, " The sons we are 

Of puissant barons and great noblemen, 

Whose honors we prolong." You do prolong them? 

Your sires were soldiers brave, not prowlers base, 

Rogues, miscreants, felons, village-ravagers ! 

They made great wars, they rode like heroes forth, 

And, worthy, won broad lands and towers and towns, 

So firmly won that thirty years of strife 

Made of their followers dukes, their leaders kings ! 

While you ! like jackal and the bird of prey, 

Who lurk in copses or 'mid muddy beds, — 

Crouched and hushed, with dagger ready drawn, 

Hide in the noisome marsh that skirts the way, 

Trembling lest passing hounds snuff out your lair ! 

Listen at eventide on lonesome path 

For traveler's footfall, or the mule-bell's chime, 

Pouncing by hundreds on one helpless man, 

To cut him down, then back to your retreats — 

You dare to vaunt your sires ? I call your sires, 

Bravest of brave and greatest 'mid the great, 

A line of warriors ! you, a pack of thieves ! 

THE BOY AND THE ANGEL 

Robert Browning 

Morning, evening, noon, and night, 
"Praise God ! " sang Theocrite. 

Then to his poor trade he turned, 
Whereby the daily meal was earned. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 19 



290 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Hard he labored, long and well : 
O'er bis work the boy's curls fell. 

But ever, at each period, 

lie stopped and sang, " Praise God ! " 

Then back again his curls he threw, 
And cheerful turned to work anew. 

Said Blaise, the listening monk, " Well done 
I doubt not thou art heard, my son, 

" As well as if thy voice to-day 

Were praising God the Pope's great way. 

" This Easter Day, the Pope at Rome 
Praises God from Peter's dome." 

Said Theocrite, " Would God that I 

Might praise him that great way, and die ! " 

Night passed, day shone ; 
And Theocrite was gone. 

With God a day endures alway : 
A thousand years are but a day. 

God said in heaven, " Nor day nor night 
Now brings the voice of my delight." 

Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, 
Spread his wings and sank to earth ; 

Entered, in flesh, the empty cell, 

Lived there, and played the craftsman well ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 291 

And morning, evening, noon, and night, 
Praised God in place of Theocrite. 

And from a boy, to youth lie grew ; 
The man put off the stripling's hue ; 

The man matured and fell away 
Into the season of decay ; 

And ever o'er the trade he bent, 
And ever lived on earth content. 

(He did God's will ; to him all one 
If on the earth or in the sun.) 

God said, " A praise is in mine ear ; 
There is no doubt in it, no fear : 

" So sing old worlds, and so 

New worlds that from my footstool go. 

" Clearer loves sound other ways : 
I miss my little human praise." 

Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell 
The flesh disguise, remained the cell. 

'Twas Easter Day : he flew to Rome, 
And paused above Saint Peter's dome. 

In the tiring-room close by 
The great outer gallery, 

With his holy vestments dight, 
Stood the new Pope, Theocrite : 



292 school speaker 

And all his past career 
Came back upon him clear, 

Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, 
Till on his life the sickness weighed : 

And in his cell, when death drew near 
An angel in a dream brought cheer: 

And rising from the sickness drear 
He grew a priest, and now stood here. 

To the East with praise he turned, 
And on his sight the angel burned. 

" I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell, 
And set thee here : I did not well. 

" Vainly I left my angel sphere, 
Vain was thy dream of many a year. 

" Thy voice's praise seemed weak : it dropped 
Creation's chorus stopped ! 

" Go back and praise again 
The early way, while I remain. 

" With that weak voice of our disdain, 
Take up creation's pausing strain. 

" Back to the cell and poor employ : 
Resume the craftsman and the boy ! " 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 293 

Theocrite grew old at home : 

A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome. 

One vanished as the other died : 
They sought God side by side. 



FROM THE GRAVEYARD SCENE 

Hamlet, Act v 

Shakespeare 

[Enter two clowns (laborers) with spades and pickax, to dig 
the grave of Ophelia.'] 

1st Clown. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that 
willfully seeks her own salvation ? 

2d Clown. I tell thee, she is : therefore make her grave 
straight : the crowner hath set on her, and finds it Chris- 
tian burial. 

1st Clown. How can that be, unless she drowned her- 
self in her own defense ? 

2c? Clown. Why, 'tis found so. 

1st Clown. It must be se offendendo ; it can not be else. 
For here lies the point : if I drown myself wittingly, it 
argues an act ; and an act has three branches ; it is, to 
act, to do, and to perform : Argal, she drowned herself 
wittingly. 

2d Cloiun. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 

1st Clown. Give me leave {laying down his spade), 
here lies the water ; good (setting up his pickax), here 
stands the man ; good : if the man go to this water, and 
drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes ; mark you 
that : but if the water come to him, and drown him, he 



294 school SPEAKEB 

drowns not himself : Argal, he that is not guilty of his 
own death, shortens not his own life. 

2d Clown. But is this law? 

1st Clown. Aye, marry is't ; crowner's quest law. 

2d Clown. Will you have the truth on't? If this had 
not been a gentlewoman, she would have been buried out 
of Christian burial. 

1st Clown. Why, there thou sayest : and the more the 
pity, that great folks shall have countenance in this world 
to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Chris- 
tian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen 
but gardeners, ditchers, and grave makers ; they hold up 
Adam's profession. 

2d Clown. Was he a gentleman ? 

1st Clown. He was the first that ever bore arms. 

2d Clown. Why, he had none. 

1st Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou 
understand the Scriptures? The Scripture says Adam 
digged; could he dig without arms? I'll put another 
question to thee : if thou, answerest me not to the purpose, 
confess thyself — 

2d Clown. Go to. 

1st Clown. What is he that builds stronger than either 
the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter ? 

2d Clown. The gallows maker ; for that frame outlives 
a thousand tenants. 

1st Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith ; the gal- 
lows does well ; but how does it well ? It does well to 
those that do ill : now thou dost ill, to say the gallows is 
built stronger than the church ; Argal, the gallows may 
do well to thee. To't again : come. 

2d Clown. Who builds stronger than a mason, a ship- 
wright, or a carpenter ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 295 

1st Clown. Aye, tell me that, and unyoke. 

2d Clown. Marry, now I can tell. 

1st Clown. To't. 

2d Clown. Mass, I can not tell. 

1st Clown. Cudgel thy brains no more about it ; for 
your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating ; and 
when you are asked this question next, say, a grave maker; 
the houses that he makes, last till doomsday. Go, get thee 
to Yaughan ; fetch me a stoup of liquor. 

Exit 2d Clown. \Jf given as a dialogue the first Clown 
should follow him out with action as if urging the other to 
hasten. ] 



COLUMBUS 
Chauncey M. Depew 

God always has in training some commanding genius 
for the control of great crises in the affairs of nations 
and peoples. The number of these leaders is less than 
the centuries, but their lives are the history of human 
progress. Though Caesar and Charlemagne, and Hilde- 
brand, and Luther, and William the Conqueror, and 
Oliver Cromwell, and all the epoch makers prepared 
Europe for the event, and contributed to the result, the 
lights which illumine our firmament to-day are Columbus 
the discoverer, Washington the founder, and Lincoln the 
savior. 

It was a happy omen of the position which woman was 
to hold in America that the only person who compre- 
hended the majestic scope of his plans, and the invincible 
quality of his genius, was the able and gracious queen of 
Castile. Isabella alone of all the dignitaries of that age 



296 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

shares with Columbus the honors of his great achieve- 
ment. She arrayed her kingdom and her private fortune 
behind the enthusiasm of this mystic mariner, and pos- 
terity pays homage to her wisdom and faith. 

The overthrow of the Mahometan power in Spain would 
have been a forgotten scene in one of the innumerable acts 
in the grand drama of history had not Isabella conferred 
immortality upon herself, -her husband and their dual 
crown, by her recognition of Columbus. The devout 
spirit of the queen and the high purpose of the explorer 
inspired the voyage, subdued the mutinous crew, and pre- 
vailed over the raging storms. They covered with divine 
radiance of religion and humanity the degrading search 
for gold and the horrors of its quest, which filled the first 
century of conquest with every form of lust and greed. 

The mighty soul of the great admiral was undaunted 
by the ingratitude of princes and the hostility of the 
people, by imprisonment and neglect. He died as he 
was securing the means and preparing a campaign for 
the rescue of the Holy Sepulcher at Jerusalem from the 
infidel. He did not know what time has revealed, that, 
while the mission of the crusades of Godfrey of Bouillon 
and Richard of the Lion Heart was a bloody and fruitless 
romance, the discovery of America was the salvation of 
the world. The one was the symbol, the other the spirit ; 
the one death, the other life. The tomb of the Savior 
was a narrow and empty vault, precious only for its 
memories of the supreme tragedy of the centuries ; but 
the new continent was to be the home and temple of the 
living God. 

All hail, Columbus, discoverer, dreamer, hero, and 
apostle ! We here, of every race and country, recognize 
the horizon which bounded his vision and the infinite 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 297 

scope of his genius. The voice of gratitude and praise 
for all the blessings which have been showered upon man- 
kind by adventure is limited to no language, but is 
uttered in every tongue. Neither marble nor brass can 
fitly form his statue. Continents are his monuments, and 
innumerable millions, past, present, and to come, who en- 
joy in their liberties and their happiness the fruits of his 
faith, will reverently guard and preserve, from century to 
century, his name and fame. 



THE DEATH OF MARMION 
Scott 

With that, straight up the hill there rode 
Two horsemen drenched with gore, 

And in their arms, a helpless load, 
A wounded knight they bore. 

His hand still strained the broken band ; 

His arms were smeared with blood and sand ; 

Dragged from among the horses' feet, 

With dinted shield, and helmet beat, 

The falcon-crest and plumage gone ; 

Can that be haughty Marmion ? 

When, doffed his casque, he felt free air, 

Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare : 

" Where's Harry Blount ? Fitz-Eustace where ? 

Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare ? 

Redeem my pennon ! charge again ! 

Cry ; ' Marmion to the rescue ! ' Vain ! 

Last of my race, on battle-plain 

That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! 



298 school SPEAKER 

Yet my hist thought is England's — fly, 
To Dacre bear my signet ring : 
Tell him his squadrons up to bring, — 
Let Stanley charge with spur of lire, — 
With Chester charge, and Lancashire, 
Full upon Scotland's central host, 
Or victory and England's lost. — 
Must I bid twice ? hence, yarlets ! fly ' 
Leave Marmion here alone — to die." 

They parted, and alone he lay. 

Clare drew her from the sight away 
Till pain rung forth a lowly moan, 
And half he murmured, " Is there none, 

Of all my halls have nursed, 
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring, 
Of blessed water from the spring, 

To slake my dying thirst? " 

Scarce were the piteous accents said, 
When, with the baron's casque, the maid 

To the nigh streamlet ran : 
Forgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears : 
The plaintive voice alone she hears, 

Sees but the dying man. 

She filled the helm, and back she hied, 
And with surprise and joy espied 
A monk supporting Marmion's head. 

With fruitless labor, Clara bound, 
And strove to stanch the gushing wound. 
The monk, with unavailing cares, 
Exhausted all the Church's prayers. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 299 

Ever, he said, that, close and near, 

A lady's voice was in his ear. 
And that the priest he could not hear ; 

For that she ever sung, 
" In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
Where mingles wars rattle ivith groans of the dying ! " 

So the notes rung : 

" Avoid thee, Fiend ! with cruel hand, 
Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! 
O look, my son, upon yon sign 
Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; 

O think on faith and bliss ! 
By many a deathbed I have been, 
And many a sinner's parting seen, 

But never aught like this." 

The war, that for a space did fail, 

Now trebl} r thundering swelled the gale, 

And Stanley ! was the cry ; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye : 
With dying hand, above his head, 
He shook the fragment of his blade, 

And shouted " Victory ! 
Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on ! " 
Were the last words of Marmion. 

A LEGEND OE BREGENZ 

Adelaide A. Procter 

Girt round with rugged mountains the fair Lake Con- 
stance lies ; 
In her blue heart reflected shine back the starry skies ; 



300 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And watching each white cloudlet float silently and slow, 
You think a piece of heaven lies on our earth below! 

Midnight is there ; and Silence, enthroned in Heaven, looks 

down 
Upon her own calm mirror, upon a sleeping town ; 
For Bregenz, that quaint city upon the Tyrol shore, 
Has stood above Lake Constance, a thousand years and 

more. 
Mountain, and lake, and valley, a sacred legend know, 
Of how the town was saved one night, three hundred 

years ago. 

Far from her home and kindred, a Tyrol maid had fled, 
To serve in the Swiss valleys, and toil for daily bread ; 
And every year that fleeted so silently and fast 
Seemed to bear farther from her the memory of the 
past. 

She served kind, gentle masters, nor asked for rest or 

change ; 
Her friends seemed no more new ones, their speech seemed 

no more strange ; 
And when she led her cattle to pasture every day, 
She ceased to look and wonder on which side Bregenz 

lay. 
And so she dwelt; the valley more peaceful year by 

year ; 
When suddenly strange portents of some great deed seemed 

near. 
The golden corn was bending upon its fragile stalk, 
While farmers, heedless of their fields, paced up and down 

in talk. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 301 

One day, out in the meadow, with strangers from the town, 
Some secret plan discussing, the men walked up and down. 
Yet now and then seemed watching a strange, uncertain 

gleam, 
That looked like lances 'mid the trees that stood below the 

stream. 

At eve they all assembled, then care and doubt were fled ; 
With jovial laugh they feasted, the board was nobly 

spread. 
The elder of the village rose up, his glass in hand, 
And cried, " We drink the downfall of an accursed land ! 

" The night is growing darker, ere one more day is flown, 
Bregenz, our foeman's stronghold, Bregenz shall be our 

own ! " 
The women shrank in terror (yet pride, too, had her part), 
But one poor Tyrol maiden felt death within her heart. 

Before her stood fair Bregenz ; once more her towers arose; 
What were the friends beside her? Only her country's 

foes ! 
The faces of her kinsfolk, the days of childhood flown, 
The echoes of her mountains, reclaimed her as their own ! 

Nothing she heard around her (though shouts rang forth 

again), 
Gone were the green Swiss valleys, the pasture and the 

plain ; 
Before her eyes one vision, and in her heart one cry, 
That said, " Go forth, save Bregenz, and then, if need be, 

die!" 



302 school SPEAKER 

With trembling haste and breathless, with noiseless step 

she sped ; 
Horses and weary cattle were standing in the shed; 
She loosed the strong white charger, that fed from out her 

hand, 
She mounted, and she turned his head toward her native 

land. 

Out — out into the darkness — faster, and still more fast ; 
The smooth grass flies behind her, the chestnut wood is 

passed ; 
She looks up ; the clouds are heavy : why is her steed so 

slow ? 

Scarcely the wind beside them can pass them as they go. 

" Faster ! " she cries, " oh, faster ! " Eleven the church 

bells chime ; 
" O God," she cries, " help Bregenz, and bring me there in 

time ! " 
But louder than bells ringing, or lowing of the kine, 
Grows nearer in the midnight the rushing of the Rhine. 

Shall not the roaring waters their headlong gallop check ? 
The steed draws back in terror, she leans upon his neck 
To watch the flowing darkness ; the bank is high and 

steep ; 
One pause — he staggers forward, and plunges in the deep. 

She strives to pierce the darkness, and looser throws the 

rein ; 
Her steed must breast the waters that dash above his mane. 
How gallantly, how nobly, he struggles through the foam, 
And see — in the far distance, shine out the lights of 

home ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 303 

Up the steep bank lie bears her, and now they rush again 
Toward the heights of Bregenz, that tower above the plain. 
They reach the gate of Bregenz, just as the midnight rings, 
And out come serf and soldier to meet the news she brings. 

Bregenz is saved ! Ere daylight her battlements are 

manned ; 
Defiance greets the army that marches on the land. 
And if to deeds heroic should endless fame be paid, 
Bregenz does well to honor the noble Tyrol maid. 

Three hundred years are vanished, and yet upon the hill 
An old stone gateway rises, to do her honor still. 
And there, when Bregenz women sit spinning in the shade, 
They see in quaint old carving the Charger and the Maid. 

And when, to guard old Bregenz, by gateway, street, and 

tower, 
The warder paces all night long, and calls each passing 

hour ; 
" Nine," " ten," " eleven," he cries aloud, and then, (O 

crown of fame !) 
When midnight pauses in the skies he calls the maiden's 

name. 



GALILEO 
Edward Everett 

There is much in every way in the city of Florence to 
excite the curiosity, kindle the imagination, and gratify 
the taste ; but among all its fascinations, addressed to the 
sense, the memory, and the heart, there was none to 
which I more frequently gave a meditative hour during 



304 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

a year's residence, than to the spot where Galileo Galilei 
sleeps beneath the marble floor of Santa Croce ; no build- 
ing on which I gazed with greater reverence than I did 
upon that modest mansion at Arceti : villa once, and 
prison, in which that venerable sage, by the command of 
the Inquisition, passed the sad, closing years of his life. 

Of all the wonders of ancient and modern art, statues 
and paintings, jewels and manuscripts, the admiration 
and delight of ages, there is nothing I beheld with more 
affectionate awe than that poor little spyglass, through 
which the human eye first pierced the clouds of visual 
error, which from the creation of the world had involved 
the system of the universe. 

There are occasions in life in which a great mind lives 
years of rapt enjoyment in a moment. I can fancy the 
emotions of Galileo, when, first raising the newly con- 
structed telescope to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the 
grand prophecy of Copernicus, and beheld the planet 
Venus crescent like the moon. 

It was such another moment as that when the immortal 
printers of Mentz and Strasburg received the first copy of 
the Bible into their hands, the work of their divine art ; 
like that, when Columbus, through the gray dawn of the 
12th of October, 1492, beheld the shores of San Salvador ; 
like that, when the law of gravitation first revealed itself 
to the intellect of Newton ; like that, when Franklin saw, 
by the stiffening fibers of the hempen cord of his kite, that 
he held the lightning in his grasp ; like that, when Leverrier 
received back from Berlin the tidings that the predicted 
planet was found. 

******* 

Yes, noble Galileo, thou art right, "It does move." 
Bigots may make thee recant it, but it moves, neverthe- 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 305 

less. Yes, the earth moves, and the planets move, and the 
mighty waters move, and the great sweeping tides of air 
move, and the empires of men move, and the world of 
thought moves, ever onward and upward, to higher facts 
and bolder theories. The Inquisition may seal thy lips, 
but they can no more stop the progress of the great truth 
propounded by Copernicus and demonstrated by thee, 
than they can stop the revolving earth. 

Close, now, venerable sage, that sightless, tearful eye ; 
it has seen what man never before saw; it has seen 
enough. Hang up that poor little spyglass ; it has done 
its work. Not Herschel nor Rosse have, comparatively, 
done more. Franciscans and Dominicans deride thy 
discoveries now, but the time will come when, from 
two hundred observatories in Europe and America, the 
glorious artillery of science shall nightly assault the 
skies ; but they shall gain no conquests in those glittering 
fields before which thine shall be forgotten. 

Rest in peace, great Columbus of the heavens — like 
him scorned, persecuted, broken-hearted ! — in other ages, 
in distant hemispheres, when the votaries of science, with 
solemn acts of consecration, shall dedicate their stately 
edifices to the cause of knowledge and truth, thy name 
shall be mentioned with honor. 



BALLAD OF THE SPANISH ARMADA 
Austin Dobson 

King Philip had vaunted his claims ; 

He had sworn for a year he would sack us ; 
With an army of heathenish names 

He was coming to fagot and stack us ; 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 20 



306 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Like the thieves of the sea lie would track us ; 
And shatter our ships on the main; 

But we had bold Neptune to back us, — 
And where are the galleons of Spain? 

His carracks were christened of dames 

To the kirtles whereof he would tack us ; 
With his saints and his gilded stern frames, 

He had thought like an eggshell to crack us ; 

Now Howard may get to his Flaccus, 
And Drake to his Devon again, 

And Hawkins bowl rubbers to Bacchus, — 
For where are the galleons of Spain? 

Let his Majesty hang to Saint James 

The ax that he whetted to hack us ; 
He must play at some lustier games 

Or at sea he can hope to outthwack us ; 

To his mines of Peru he would pack us 
To tug at his bullet and chain ; 

Alas ! that his Greatness should lack us ! — 
But where are the galleons of Spain? 

ENVOY 

Gloriana ! the Don may attack us 
Whenever his stomach be fain; 

He must reach us before he can rack us, . . . 
And where are the galleons of Spain? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 307 

THE BATTLE OF IVKY 

Abridged 

T. B. Macaulay 

Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! 
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre ! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, 
Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vales, O pleasant 

land of France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the 

waters, 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning 

daughters ; 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls 

annoy. 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of 

war. 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! 
Oh, how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array ; 
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish 

spears ! 
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of 

war, 
To fight for His own holy Name, and Henry of Navarre. 

The king has come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant 
crest. 



308 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; 
He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and 

high. 
Right graciously, he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to 

wing, 
Down all our line, in deafening shout, " God save our lord, 

the king ! " 
"And if my standard bearer fall, — as fall full well he 

may, 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — 
Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks 

of war, 
And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre." 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din 

Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 
culverin ! 

" Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 
France, 

Charge for the golden lilies now, — upon them with the 
lance ! " 

A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in 
rest, 

A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow- 
white crest, 

And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guid- 
ing star, 

Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath 

turned his rein, 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish count is 

slain : 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 309 

Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay 

gale; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 

cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van, 
" Remember St. Bartholomew ! " was passed from man to 

man ; 
But out spake gentle Henry, then, — " No Frenchman is 

my foe ; 
Down, down with every foreigner ! but let your brethren 

go." 
Oh, was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, 
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ? 

Ho ! maidens of Vienna ! Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ! 

Weep, weep and rend your hair for those who never shall 
return ! 

Ho ! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles, 

That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spear- 
men's souls. 

Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be 
bright ! 

Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to- 
night ! 

For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised 
the slave, 

And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the 
brave. 

Then glory to His holy Name, from whom all glories are ! 

And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! 



310 SCHOOL SPEAKER 



u HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO 

AIX" 

Robert Browning 

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
" Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts un- 
drew ; 
" Speed! " echoed the wall to us galloping through ; 
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique 'right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting; but, while we drew near 

Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear ; 

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ; 

At DiifTeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be ; 

And from Mecheln church steeple we heard the half-chime, 

So Joris broke silence with, " Yet there is time ! " 

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past ; 
And I saw my stout galloper, Roland, at last, 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 311 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, " Stay spur ! 

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 

We'll remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick 

wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 

And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight! 

" How they'll greet us ! " — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate. 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, 
Shook off both my jack boots, let go belt and all, 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer ; 



312 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or 

good, 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is, friends flocking round 
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
Was no more than his due who brought good news from 
Ghent. 



THE BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE 

Scott 

To the lords of convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke, 

" Ere the king's crown shall fall there are crowns to be 

broke ; 
So let each cavalier who loves honor and me 
Come follow the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! " 

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can ; 
Come saddle your horses, and call up your men ; 
Come open the Westport, and let us gang free, 
And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee ! 

Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, 
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat ; 
But the provost, douce man, said, " Just e'en let him be, 
The gude toun is well quit of that deil of Dundee ! " 

As he rode doun the sanctified bends of the Bow 
Ilk car line was fly ting and shaking her pow ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 313 

But the young plants of grace they looked cowthie and 

slee, 
Thinking, Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonuie Dundee ! 

With sour-featured whigs the grass market was thranged 
As if half the west had set tryst to be hanged ; 
There was spite in each look, there was fear in each ee, 
As they watched for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee. 

These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears, 
And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers ; 
But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway was free 
At the toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. 

He spurred to the foot of the proud castle rock, 

And with the fair Gordon he gallantly spoke : 

" Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa words or 

three, 
For the love of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee." 

The Gordon demands of him which way he goes, — 
" Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose ! 
Your Grace in short space shall hear tidings of me, 
Or that low lies the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. 

" There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond Forth ; 
If there's lords in the Lowlands, there's chiefs in the north ; 
There are wild Duniewassals three thousand times three 
Will cry 4 Hoigh ! ' for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. 

" There's brass on the target of barkened bullhide, 
There's steel in the scabbard that dangles beside ; 
The brass shall be burnished, the steel shall flash free, 
At a toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee. 



814 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" Away to the hills, to the eaves, to the rocks ; 
Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox ; 
And tremble, false whigs, in the midst of your glee, 
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me." 

He waved his proud hand, and the trumpets were blown, 
The kettledrums clashed, and the horsemen rode on, 
Till on Ravelston's cliffs and on Clermiston's lea 
Died away the wild war notes of bonnie Dundee. 



THE CURSE OF HUNGARY 
John Hay 

King Saloman looked from his donjon bars, 

Where the Danube clamors through sedge and sand, 
And he cursed with a curse his revolting land, — 

With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. 

He said : " May this false land know no truth ! 
May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, 
And a greed of glory but live to nourish 

Envy and hate in its restless youth. 

" In the barren soil may the plowshare rust, 

While the sword grows bright with its fatal labor, 
And blackens between each man and neighbor 

The perilous cloud of a vague distrust ! 

" Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, 
And each to the other as unknown things, 
That with links of hatred and pride the kings 

May forge firm fetters through each for all ! 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 315 

" May a king wrong them as they wrong their king ! 
May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, 
Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, 

And to women and monks their birthright fling ! " 

The mad king died ; but the rushing river 

Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, 
And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands 

That the curse of King Saloman works forever. 

For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers 
Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts 
That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts, — 

A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears ! 

And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, 
Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, 
As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown 

And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. 

And latest they saw in the summer glare 
The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, 
To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, 

A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. 

But ever the same sad play they saw, 

The same weak worship of sword and crown, 
The noble crushing the humble down, 

And molding Wrong to a monstrous Law. 

The donjon stands by the turbid river, 

But time is crumbling its battered towers ; 
And the slow light withers a despot's powers, 

And a mad king's curse is not forever ! 



316 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

THE EXILE OF THE ACADIANS 

Arranged from Evangeline 
Longfellow 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard, 
Bending with golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 
Under the orchard trees and down the path to the meadows ; 
Old folk and young together, and children mingled among 
them. 

So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a summons 

sonorous 
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a 

drum beat. 
Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without, 

in the churchyard, 
Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung 

on the headstones 
Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the 

forest. 

Then came the guard from the ships, and marching 

proudly among them 
Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant 

clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and 

casement, — 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the 

soldiers. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 317 

Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps 
of the altar, 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal com- 
mission. 

" You are convened this day," he said, " by his Majesty's 

orders. 
Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have answered 

his kindness, 
Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make and my 

temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be 

grievous. 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our 

monarch ; 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of 

all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown ; and that you yourselves from 

this province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell 

there 
Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty's 

pleasure ! " 

Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then 
rose 

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the 
doorway. 

Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce impre- 
cations 



318 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the 

heads of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the black- 
smith, 
As on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion, and 

wildly he shouted, — 
" Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have 

sworn them allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes 

and our harvests ! " 
More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a 

soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the 

pavement. 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the 

altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into 

silence 
All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake to his 

people ; 
Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured and 

mournful 
Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock 

strikes. 
" What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has 

seized you ? 
Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and 

taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS . 319 

Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and for- 
giveness ? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you 

profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with 

hatred ? 
Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing 

upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy 

compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 4 O Father, 

forgive them ! ' 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked 

assail us, 
Let us repeat it now, and say, 4 Father, forgive them ! ' " 
Few were the words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of 

his people 
Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate 

outbreak, 
While they repeated his prayer, and said, " O Father, 

forgive them ! " 



BARCLAY OF URY 

Whittier 

[Barclay of Ury was one of the earliest converts to the doctrines of Friends, 
or Quakers, in Scotland ; he was an old and distinguished soldier, and had 
fought under Gustavus Adolphus-, in Germany.] 

Up the streets of Aberdeen, 
By the kirk and college green, 
Rode the Laird of Ury ; 



320 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Close behind him, close beside, 
Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, 
Pressed the mob in fury. 

Flouted him the drunken churl, 
Jeered at him the serving girl, 

Prompt to please her master ; 
And the begging carlin, late 
Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, 

Cursed him as he passed her. 

Yet, with calm and stately mien, 
Up the streets of Aberdeen 

Came he slowly riding ; 
And, to all he saw and heard 
Answering not with bitter word, 

Turning not for chiding. 

Came a troop with broadswords swinging, 
Bits and bridles sharply ringing, 

Loose and free and froward ; 
Quoth the foremost, " Ride him down ! 
Push him ! prick him ! through the town 

Drive the Quaker coward ! " 

But from out the thickening crowd 
Cried a sudden voice and loud : 

" Barclay ! Ho ! a Barclay ! " 
And the old man at his side, 
Saw a comrade, battle tried, 

Scarred and sunburned darkly ; 

Who with ready weapon bare, 
Fronting to the troopers there, 
Cried aloud : " God save us ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 321 

Call ye coward him who stood 
Ankle deep in Lutzen's blood, 
With the brave Gustavus?" 

" Nay, I do not need thy sword, 
Comrade mine," said Ury's lord ; 

"Put it up, I pray thee : 
Passive to His holy will, 
Trust I in my Master still, 

Even though He slay me. 

" Pledges of thy love and faith, 
Proved on many a field of death, 

Not by me are needed." 
Marveled much that henchman bold, 
That his laird, so stout of old, 

Now so meekly pleaded. 

" Woe's the day," he sadly said, 
With a slowly shaking head, 

And a look of pity ; 
" Ury's honest lord reviled, 
Mock of knave and sport of child, 

In his own good city ! 

" Speak the word, and, master mine, 
As we charged on Tilly's line, 

And his Walloon lancers, 
Smiting through their midst we'll teach 
Civil look and decent speech 

To these boyish prancers ! " 

" Marvel not, mine ancient friend, 
Like beginning, like the end," 
Quoth the Laird of Ury ; 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 21 



322 school spp;aker 

" Is the sinful servant more 
Than his gracious Lord who bore 
Bonds and stripes in Jewry? 

"Give me joy that in His name 
I can bear, with patient frame, 

All these vain ones offer ; 
While for them He sufTereth long, 
Shall I answer wrong with wrong, 

Scoffing with the scoffer? 

" Happier I, with loss of all, 
Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall, 

With few friends to greet me, 
Than when reeve and squire were seen, 
Riding out from Aberdeen, 

With bared heads, to meet me. 

" When each good wife, o'er and o'er, 
Blessed me as I passed her door ; 

And the snooded daughter, 
Through her casement glancing down, 
Smiled on him who bore renown 

From red fields of slaughter. 

" Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, 
Hard the old friend's falling off, 

Hard to learn forgiving : 
But the Lord His own rewards, 
And His Love with theirs accords, 

Warm and fresh and living. 

" Through this dark and stormy night 
Faith beholds a feeble light 

Up the blackness streaking ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 323 

Knowing God's own time is best, 
In a patient hope I rest 

For the full day -breaking ! " 

So the Laird of Ury said, 
Turning slow his horse's head 

Towards the Tolbooth prison, 
Where, through iron grates, he heard 
Poor disciples of the Word 

Preach of Christ arisen ! 

Not in vain, Confessor old, 
Unto us the tale is told 

Of thy day of trial ; 
Every age on him, who strays 
From its broad and beaten ways, 

Pours its sevenfold vial. 

Happy he whose inward ear 
Angel comfortings can hear, 

O'er the rabble's laughter ; 
And, while Hatred's fagots burn, 
Glimpses through the smoke discern 

Of the good hereafter. 

Knowing this, that never yet 
Share of Truth was vainly set 

In the world's wide fallow ; 
After hands shall sow the seed, 
After hands from hill and mead 

Reap the harvests yellow. 

Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, 
Must the moral pioneer 

From the Future borrow ; 



324 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, 
And, on midnight's sky of rain, 
Paint the golden morrow ! 

THE CAPTAIN 

A Legend of the Navy 

Tennyson 

He that only rules by terror 

Doeth grievous wrong. 
Deep as Hell I count his error, 

Let him hear my song. 
Brave the Captain was : the seamen 

Made a gallant crew, 
Gallant sons of English freemen, 

Sailors bold and true. 
But they hated his oppression, 

Stern he was and rash ; 
So for every light transgression 

Doom'd them to the lash. 
Day by day more harsh and cruel 

Seem'd the Captain's mood. 
Secret wrath like smother'd fuel 

Burnt in each man's blood. 
Yet he hoped to purchase glory, 

Hoped to make the name 
Of his vessel great in story, 

Wheresoe'er he came. 
So they past by capes and islands, 

Many a harbor mouth, 
Sailing under palmy highlands 

Far within the South. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 325 

On a day when they were going 

O'er the lone expanse, 
In the North, her canvas flowing, 

Rose a ship of France. 
Then the Captain's color heighten'd, 

Joyful came his speech : 
But a cloudy gladness lighten'd 

In the eyes of each. 
" Chase," he said : the ship flew forward, 

And the wind did blow ; 
Stately, lightly, went she Norward, 

Till she near'd the foe. 
Then they look'd at him they hated, 

Had what they desired : 
Mute with folded arms they waited — 

Not a gun was tired. 
But they heard the foeman's thunder 

Roaring out their doom ; 
All the air was torn in sunder, 

Crashing went the boom, 
Spars were splinter'd, decks were shatter'd, 

Bullets fell like rain ; 
Over mast and deck were scatter'd 

Blood and brains of men. 
Spars were splinter'd : decks were broken : 

Every mother's son — 
Down they dropt — no word was spoken — 

Each beside his gun. 
On the decks as they were lying, 

Were their faces grim. 
In their blood, as they lay dying, 

Did they smile on him. 
Those, in whom he had reliance 



326 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

For his noble name, 
With one smile of still defiance 

Sold him unto shame. 
Shame and wrath his heart confounded, 

Pale he turn'd and red, 
Till himself was deadly wounded 

Falling on the dead. 
Dismal error ! fearful slaughter ! 

Years have wander'd by, 
Side by side beneath the water 

Crew and Captain lie ; 
There the sunlit ocean tosses 

O'er them moldering, 
And the lonely sea bird crosses 

With one waft of the wing. 



From the Century Magazine, by permission of the publishers 
Charles G. D. Roberts 

A wind blew up from Pernambuco 
(Yeo, heave ho ! the Laughing Sally ! 

Hi yeo, heave away !) — 
A wind blew out of the east-sou'-east 

And boomed at the break of day. 

The Laughing Sally sped for her life, 

And a speedy craft was she. 
The black flag flew at her top to tell 

How she took toll of the sea. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 327 

The wind blew up from Pernambuco, 

And in the breast of the blast 
Came the king's black ship, like a hound let slip 

On the trail of the Sally at last. 

For a day and a night, a night and a day, 

Over the blue, blue round, 
Went on the chase of the pirate quarry, 

The hunt of the tireless hound. 

"Land on the port bow ! " came the cry ; 

And the Sally raced for shore 
Till she reached the bar at the river mouth 

Where the shallow breakers roar. 

She passed the bar by a secret channel, 

With clear tide under her keel ; 
For he knew the shoals like an open book — 

The captain at the wheel. 

She passed the bar, she sped like a ghost 

Till her sails were hid from view 
By the tall, liana'd, unsunned boughs 

O'erbrooding the dark bayou. 

At moonrise up to the river mouth 

Came the king's black ship of war ; 
The Red Cross flapped in wrath at her peak, 

But she could not cross the bar. 

And while she lay in the run of the seas, 

By the grimmest whim of chance 
Out of a bay to the north came forth 

Two battle ships of France. 



328 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

On the English ship the twain bore down 

Like wolves that range by night ; 
And the breakers' roar was heard no more 

In the thunder of the fight. 

The crash of the broadsides rolled and stormed 

To the Sally, hid from view 
Under the tall, liana'd boughs 

Of the moonless, dark bayou. 

Her boats ran out for news of the fight, 
And this was the word they brought : 

" The king's ship fights the ships of France, 
As the king's ships all have fought ! " 

Then muttered the mate, " I'm a man of Devon ! " 

And the captain thundered then : 
" There's English rope that bides for our necks, 

But we all be Englishmen ! " 

The Sally glided out of the gloom 

And down the moon-white river ; 
She stole like a gray shark over the bar 

Where the long surf seethes forever. 

She hove to under a high French hull, 
And the Red Cross rose to her peak. 

The French were looking for fight that night, 
And they had not far to seek. 

Blood and fire on the streaming decks, 

And fire and blood below ; 
The heat of hell, and the reek of hell, 

And the dead men laid arow ! 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 329 

And when the stars paled out of heaven 

And the red dawn rays uprushed, 
The oaths of battle, the crash of timbers, 

The roar of the guns, were hushed. 

With one foe beaten under his bow, 

The other afar in flight, 
The English captain turned to look 

For his fellow in the fight. 

The English captain turned and stared ; 

For where the Sally had been 
Was a single spar upthrust from the sea 

With the Red Cross flag serene. 

* * * * * * 

A wind blew up from Pernambuco 
(Yeo, heave ho ! the Laughing Sally ! 

Hi yeo, heave away !) 
And boomed for the doom of the Laughing Sally, 

Gone down at the break of day ! 

THE WRECKER OF PRIEST'S COVE 
Graham R. Tomson. 

One yellow rushlight glimmered dim among the shadows 

deep, 
Where the dying man lay gaunt and grim, and his watcher 

drowsed to sleep. 
" Black is the night, and the light burns bright to guide 

the good ships in ; 
There is work, may be, on the rocks for me, and a purse 

of gold to win. 



330 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

"Now why does lie cling so fast, so fast, to the shore rocks 

sharp and black ? 
Aye has the sea befriended me, and the sea shall have 

him back. 
And what should a dead man do with gold, that he grips 

his belt so tight ? 
'Twas all for me through the beating sea he made yon 

lusty fight. 

" Oh, the ribbed rooftree hangs over me, and not the 

open sky ; 
Gone are the rocks and the heavy belt, and a doting fool 

am I. 
Now curses on this cankering pain that will not let me free, 
That keeps me back from the worn cliff track and the 

harvest of the sea ! 

" Go, get ye to the windowpane, and tell me what ye see ; 
Is there ever a ship across the bar where the merry 

breakers be ? 
Look out, look out across the bay, look out again once 

more ; 
Is it burning bright, our bonny light that brings the ships 

inshore ? " 

She's ta'en her to the windowpane, and looked across the 

bay : 
" Oh, the night is chill, and the waves are still, and the 

wild fowl boding day." 
" Look out, look out across the bay, and tell me what ye 

see ; 
A clay cold weight is on my breast, and the death thraw 

grapples me." 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 331 

She's ta'en her to the windowpane to look across the bay, 
And thrice her lips gaped wide to speak, but nothing could 

she say. 
A black cloud filled the windowpane and wrapped the 

house around, 
And out of the gloom came a hollow din like a great ship 

gone aground. 

And out of the gloom came a hollow din of a great ship 

drawing near, 
With laboring ropes, and creaking blocks, and shipmen 

calling clear. 
Slow strained the masts, and the timbers groaned, like a 

ship in her agony ; 
The chamber was full of the sound of surf and the clash 

of a breaking sea. 

" Are ye come for me from the foul black sea? Win back, 

ye carrion crew ! 
Back to the hell where I bade you dwell, for never 111 

sail with you ! " 
But the deathgasp rattled in his throat as he reared him 

in the bed ; 
The room was still as the corpse fell back, and the murky 

cloud had sped. 

It was a great ship crossed the bar, with all sail set went 

she ; 
'Gainst tide and wind with the shore behind that ship put 

out to sea. 



332 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

AN APPEAL TO ARMS 
Patrick Henry 

Mr. President : It is natural for man to indulge in 
the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against 
a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she 
transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, 
engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? 

Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, hav- 
ing eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things 
which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For 
my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am 
willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and 
to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided ; and 
that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judg- 
ing of the future but by the past. And, judging by the 
past, I wish to know what there has been , in the conduct 
of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify 
those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to 
solace themselves and the house ? 

Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has 
been lately received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a 
snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed 
with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception 
of our petition comports with those warlike preparations 
which cover our waters and darken our land. 

Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to 
be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our 
love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 333 

implements of war and subjugation, — the last arguments 
to which kings resort. 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if 
its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentle- 
men assign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great 
Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for 
all this accumulation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she 
has none. They are meant for us ; they can be meant for 
no other. 

They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those 
chains which the British ministry have been so long forg- 
ing. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we 
try argument ? Sir, we have been trying that for the 
last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the 
subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every 
light of which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. 

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? 
What terms shall we find, which have not been already 
exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive our«- 
selves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could 
be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We 
have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have suppli- 
cated ; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne ; 
and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical 
hands of the ministry and parliament. 

Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult ; our suppli- 
cations have been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, 
Avith contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after 
these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and 
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 

If we wish to be free ; if we mean to preserve inviolate 
those inestimable privileges for which we have been so 



334 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon the 
noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, 
and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon 
until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, 
— we must fight! — I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An 
appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is 
left us. 



LIBERTY OR DEATH 

[Continuation of the preceding] 
Patrick Henry 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be 
stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? 
Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a 
British guard shall be stationed in every house? 
9 Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? 
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying 
supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom 
of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and 
foot? 

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those 
means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. 
Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of 
Liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, 
are invincible by any force which our enemy can send 
against us. 

Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There 
is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and 
who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The 
battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 335 

the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 
If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to 
retire from the contest. 

There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery ! 
Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on 
the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable, — and let it 
come ! — I repeat it, sir, let it come ! It is vain, sir, to 
extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace ! 
but there is no peace. The war has actually begun ! 

The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring 
to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren 
are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? 
What is it that the gentlemen wish? what would they 
have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be pur- 
chased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, 
Almighty God. I know not what course others may take, 
but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 



THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING 

Thomas Buchanan Read 

Out of the North the wild news came, 
Far flashing on its wings of flame, 
Swift as the boreal light which flies 
At midnight through the startled skies. 
And there was tumult in the air, 

The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, 
And through the wide land everywhere 

The answering tread of hurrying feet ; 

While the first oath of Freedom's gun 
Came on the blast from Lexington ; 



336 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

And Concord, roused, no longer tame, 
Forgot her old baptismal name, 
Made bare her patriot arm of power, 
And swelled the discord of the hour. 

Within its shade of elm and oak 

The church of Berkley Manor stood ; 
There Sunday found the rural folk, 

And some esteemed of gentle blood. 

In vain their feet with loitering tread 
Passed 'mid the graves where rank is naught ; 
All could not read the lesson taught 

In that republic of the dead. 

The pastor came ; his snowy locks 

Hallowed his brow of thought and care ; 

And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, 
He led into the house of prayer. 

The pastor rose ; the prayer was strong ; 

The psalm was warrior David's song ; 

The text, a few short words of might, — 

"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right! " 

He spoke of wrongs too long endured, 
Of sacred rights to be secured ; 
Then from his patriot tongue of flame 
The startling words for Freedom came. 
The stirring sentences he spake 
Compelled the heart to glow or quake, 
And, rising on his theme's broad wing, 

And grasping in his nervous hand 

The imaginary battle brand, 
In face of death he dared to fling 
Defiance to a tyrant king. 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 337 

Even as lie spoke, bis frame, renewed 
In eloquence of attitude, 
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher ; 
Then swept his kindling glance of fire 
From startled pew to breathless choir ; 
When suddenly his mantle wide 
His hands impatient flung aside, 
And, lo ! he met their wondering eyes 
Complete in all a warrior's guise. 

A moment there was awful pause, — 

When Berkley cried, ■" Cease, traitor ! cease ! 

God's temple is the house of peace ! " 

The other shouted, " Nay, not so, 
When God is with our righteous cause ; 
His holiest places then are ours. 
His temples are our forts and towers, 

That frown upon the tyrant foe ; 
In this, the dawn of Freedom's day, 
There is a time to fight and pray ! " 

And now before the open door — 
The warrior priest had ordered so — 

The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar 

Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er, 
Its long, reverberating blow, 

So loud and clear, it seemed the ear 

Of dusty death must wake and hear. 

And there the startling drum and fife 

Fired the living with fiercer life ; 

While overhead, with wild increase, 

Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, 
The great bell swung as ne'er before. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 22 



338 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

It seemed as it would never cease; 
And every word its ardor flung 
From off its jubilant iron tongue 
Was " War ! war ! war ! " 

" Who dares " — this was the patriot's cry, 
As striding from the desk he came — 
" Come out with me, in Freedom's name, 
For her to live, for her to die ? " 
A hundred hands flung up reply, 
A hundred voices answered, " I ! " 



SPEECH ON THE AMERICAN WAR 
Lord Chatham 

I can not, my lords, I will not, join in congratulation on 
misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous 
and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation. 
The smoothness of flattery can not save us in this rugged 
and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the 
throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, 
dispel the illusion and the darkness which envelop it, 
and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the 
ruin which is brought to our doors. 

Can ministers still presume to expect support in their 
infatuation? Can Parliament be so dead to its dignit}^ 
and duty, as to give their support to measures thus ob- 
truded and forced upon them ? Measures, my lords, 
which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin 
and contempt ! But yesterday, and England might have 
stood against the world ; now, none so poor as to do her 
reverence. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 339 

The people whom we ;it lirst despised its rebels, but 
whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against 
us ; supplied with every military store, their interest con- 
sulted and their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate 
enemy ! — and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose 
with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army 
abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems 
and honors the English troops than I do ; I know their 
virtues and their valor ; I know they can achieve anything 
but impossibilities ; and I know that the conquest of 
English America is an impossibility . 

You can not, my lords, you can not conquer America. 
What is your present situation there? We do not know 
the worst ; but we know that in three campaigns we have 
done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every 
expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your 
traffic to the shambles of every German despot : your 
attempts will be forever vain and impotent — doubly so, 
indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for 
it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your 
adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of 
rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions 
to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an Ameri- 
can, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — 
never, never, never ! 

But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the 
disgrace and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize 
and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping knife 
of the savage? — to call into civilized alliance the wild 
and inhuman inhabitants of the woods ? — to delegate to 
the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, and 
to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 



340 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

brethren? My lords, these enormities cry aloud for 
redress and punishment. 

But, my lords, this barbarous measure has been de- 
fended, not only on the principles of policy and necessity, 
but also on those of morality ; " for it is perfectly allow- 
able," says Lord Suffolk, " to use all the means which 
God and Nature have put into our hands." I am aston- 
ished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed ; to 
hear them avowed in this House, or in this country ! 

My lords, I did not intend to encroach so much upon 
your attention, but I can not repress my indignation. I 
feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we are called 
upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian men, 
to protest against such horrible barbarity. " Which God 
and Nature have put into our hands ! " What ideas of 
God and Nature that noble lord may entertain I know 
not ; but I know that such detestable principles are equally 
abhorrent to religion and humanity. 

What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and 
Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping knife ! — 
to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, 
drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! Such notions 
shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, 
every sentiment of honor. These abominable principles, 
and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the 
most decisive indignation. 

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned 
bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support 
the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to 
interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn; — upon 
the judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save 
us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your 
lordships to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 341 

maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity 
of my country to vindicate the national character. 



THE SOUTH DURING THE REVOLUTION 
Hayne 

If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President (and 
I say it not in a boastful spirit), that may challenge com- 
parison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and 
uncal dilating devotion to the Union, that state is South 
Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the Revo- 
lution, up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, 
she has not cheerfully made, — no service she has ever hesi- 
tated to perform. She has adhered to you in your pros- 
perity ; but in } r our adversity she has clung to you with 
more than filial affection. No matter what was the con- 
dition of her domestic affairs, — though deprived of her 
resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, 
— the call of the country has been to her as the voice of 
God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound ; every man 
became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of 
Carolina were all seen crowding to the temple, bringing 
their gifts to the altar of their common country. 

What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the 
Revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct 
in that glorious struggle. But, great as is the praise 
which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due 
to the South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren 
with a generous zeal which did not suffer them to stop to 
calculate their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the 
mother country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to 
create a commercial rivalship, they might have found in 



342 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

their situation a guarantee that their trade would be for- 
ever fostered and protected by Great Britain. But, tram- 
pling on all considerations, either of interest or of safety, 
they rushed into the conflict, and, fighting for principle, 
periled all in the sacred cause of freedom. Never were 
there exhibited, in the history of the world, higher ex- 
amples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic 
endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina during the 
Revolution. The whole state, from the mountains to 
the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the 
enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot 
where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. 
The " plains of Carolina " drank up the most precious 
blood of her citizens. Black, smoking ruins marked the 
places which had been the habitation of her children ! 
Driven from their homes, into the gloomy and almost 
impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty sur- 
vived ; and South Carolina, sustained by the example of 
her Sumters and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, 
that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her 
people was invincible. 

SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS 

Webster 

The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State 
of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her 
Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty con- 
currence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable 
member goes before me, in regard for whatever of dis- 
tinguished talent or distinguished character South Caro- 
lina has produced. I claim part of the honor ; I partake 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 343 

in the pride of her great names. I claim them for coun- 
try men, one and all. The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the 
Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions, — Americans, all, — 
whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, 
than their talents and patriotism were capable of being 
circumscribed within the same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation, they served and honored 
the country, and the whole country ; and their renown is of 
the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored 
name the gentleman himself bears, — does he suppose me 
less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy 
for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon 
the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? 
Sir, does he suppose it is in his power to exhibit a Caro- 
lina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom ? 
No, sir ; increased gratification and delight, rather. Sir, 
I thank God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit 
which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I 
have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would 
drag angels down. 

When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the 
Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it 
happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own 
state or neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, 
or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to 
elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the 
country ; or, if I see an uncommon endowment of Heaven; 
if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of 
the South ; and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened 
by state jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a 
hair from his just character and just fame, — may my 
tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! 

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections ; let me in- 



344 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

dulge in refreshing remembrances of the past ; let me 
remind yon that, in early times, no states cherished 
greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than 
Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that 
harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoulder they 
went through the Revolution : hand in hand they stood 
round the administration of Washington, and felt his own 
great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if 
it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth — unnatu- 
ral to such soils — of false principles since sown. They 
are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never 
scattered. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Mas- 
sachusetts : she needs none. There she is, — behold her, 
and judge for yourselves. There is her history, — the 
world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. 
There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker 
Hill, — and there they will remain forever. The bones 
of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for independence, 
now lie mingled with the soil of every state from New 
England to Georgia ; and there they will lie forever. 

And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, 
and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it 
still lives in the strength of its manhood, and full of its 
original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; 
if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear 
it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and 
necessary restraints, shall succeed to separate it from that 
Union by which alone its existence is made sure, — it will 
stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its 
infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm, with 
whatever of vigor it may retain, over the friends who 
gather round it ; and it will fall, at last, if fall it must, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 345 

amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, on the 
very spot of its origin ! 

THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON 
E. P. Whipple 

This illustrious man, at once the world's admiration and 
enigma, we are taught by a fine instinct to venerate, and 
by a wrong opinion to misjudge. The might of his 
character has taken strong hold upon the feelings of great 
masses of men, but in translating this universal sentiment 
into an intelligent form, the intellectual element of his 
wonderful nature is as much depressed as the moral ele- 
ment is exalted, and consequently we are apt to misunder- 
stand both. Mediocrity has a bad trick of idealizing itself 
in eulogizing him, and drags him down to its own low level 
while assuming to lift him to the skies. 

He had no genius, it seems. Oh, no ! genius, we must 
suppose, is the peculiar and shining attribute of some 
orator, whose tongue can spout patriotic speeches, or some 
versifier, whose muse can " Hail Columbia," but not of the 
man who supported states on his arm, and carried America 
in his brain. The madcap Charles Town send, the motion 
of whose pyrotechnic mind was like the whiz of a hundred 
rockets, is a man of genius ; but George Washington, raised 
up above the level of even eminent statesmen, and with a 
nature moving with the still and orderly celerity of a 
planet round its sun, — he dwindles, in comparison, into 
a kind of angelic dunce ! 

What is genius? Is it worth anything? Is splen- 
did folly the measure of its inspiration? Is wisdom its 
base and summit, — that which it recedes from, or tends 
toward? And by what definition do you award the name 



346 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

to the creator of an epic, and deny it to the creator of a 
country? On what principle is it to be lavished on him 
who sculptures in perishing marble the image of possible 
excellence, and withheld from him who built up in himself 
a transcendent character, indestructible as the obligations 
of Duty, and beautiful as her rewards ? 



William McKinley 

At no point in his administration does Washington ap- 
pear in grander proportions than when he enunciates his 
ideas in regard to the foreign policy of the government : 
" Observe good faith and justice toward all nations ; culti- 
vate peace and harmony with all ; religion and morality 
enjoin this conduct. Can it be that good policy does 
not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of a free, en- 
lightened, and, at no distant period, a great nation to 
give to mankind the magnanimous and too novel example 
of a people always guided by an exalted justice and 
benevolence." 

To-day, nearly a century from Washington's death, we 
turn reverentially to study the leading principles of that 
comprehensive chart for the guidance of the people. It 
was his unflinching, immovable devotion to these per- 
ceptions of duty which more than anything else made 
him what he was, and contributed so directly to make 
us what Ave are. Following the precepts of Washington, 
we can not err. The wise lessons in, government which 
he left us it will be profitable to heed. He seems to 
have grasped all possible conditions and pointed the way 
safely to meet them. He has established danger signals 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 347 

all along the pathway of the nation's march. He has 
warned ns against false lights. He lias taught us the 
true philosophy of " a perfect union," and shown us the 
dangers from sensationalism and wild and unreasonable 
party spirit. 

He has emphasized the necessity at all times for the 
exercise of sober and dispassionate judgment. Such a 
judgment, my fellow-citizens, is the best safeguard in 
calm and tranquil events, and rises superior and tri- 
umphant above the storms of woe and peril. 

We have every incentive to cherish the memory and 
teachings of Washington. His wisdom and foresight 
have been confirmed and vindicated after more than a 
century of experience. His best eulogy is the work he 
wrought, his highest tribute is the great Republic which 
he and his compatriots founded. From four million we 
have grown to more than seventy million of people, while 
our progress in industry, learning, and the arts has been 
the wonder of the world. What the future will be de- 
pends upon ourselves, and that that future will bring still 
greater blessings to a free people I can not doubt. With 
education and morality in their homes, loyalty to the 
underlying principles of free government in their hearts, 
and law and justice fostered and exemplified by those 
intrusted with public administration, Ave shall continue 
to enjoy the respect of mankind and the gracious favor 
of Almighty God. The priceless opportunity is ours to 
demonstrate anew the enduring triumph of American 
civilization and to help in the progress and prosperity of 
the land we love. 



848 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

FROM THE FAREWELL ADDRESS 
Washington 

Friends and Fellow -Citizens : In looking forward 
to the moment which is intended to terminate the career 
of my public life, my feelings do not permit me to suspend 
the deep acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which 
I owe to my beloved country, for the many honors it has 
conferred upon me ; still more for the steadfast confidence 
with which, it has supported me ; and for the opportunities 
I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable attach- 
ment, by services faithful and persevering, though, in use- 
fulness, unequal to my zeal. 

If benefits have resulted to our country from these 
services, let it always be remembered to your praise, and 
as an instructive example in our annals, that, under cir- 
cumstances in which the passions, agitated in every direc- 
tion, were liable to mislead ; amidst appearances sometimes 
dubious ; vicissitudes of fortune often discouraging ; in 
situations in which not unfrequently want of success has 
countenanced the spirit of criticism, — the constancy of 
your support was the essential prop of the efforts, and a 
guarantee of the plans by which they were effected. 

Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it 
with me to the grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing 
vows that heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens 
of its beneficence ; that your union and brotherly affection 
may be perpetual ; that the free Constitution, which is 
the work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained ; that 
its administration in every department may be stamped 
with wisdom and virtue ; that, in fine, the happiness of 
the people of these States, under the auspices of liberty, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 349 

may be made complete by so careful a preservation and so 
prudent a use of this blessing, as will acquire to them the 
glory of recommending it to the applause, the affection, 
and adoption of every nation which is yet a stranger to it. 



OUR RELATIONS WITH EUROPE 

From the Farewell Address, 1796 

Washington 

The great rule of conduct for us in regard to foreign 
nations, is, in extending our commercial relations, to have 
with them as little political connection as possible. So 
far as we have already formed engagements, let them be 
fulfilled with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. 

Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have 
none, or a very remote relation. Hence she must be 
engaged in frequent controversies, the causes of which 
are essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence, therefore, 
it must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves, by arti- 
ficial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes of her politics, or 
the ordinary combinations and collisions of her friendships 
or enmities. 

Our detached and distant situation invites and enables 
us to pursue a different course. If we remain one peo- 
ple, under an efficient government, the period is not far 
off when we may defy material injury from external 
annoyance ; when we may take such an attitude as will 
cause the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon to 
be scrupulously respected ; when belligerent nations, 
under the impossibility of making acquisitions upon us, 
will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation ; when 



350 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

we may choose peace or war, as oar interest, guided by 
justice, shall counsel. 

Why forego the advantages of so peculiar a situation ? 
Why quit our own to stand upon foreign ground? Why, 
by interweaving our destiny with that of any part of 
Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils 
of European ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or 
caprice ? 

It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alli- 
ances with any portion of the foreign world ; so far, I 
mean, as we are now at liberty to do it ; for let me not be 
understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to existing 
engagements. I hold the maxim no less applicable to pub- 
lic than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best 
policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those engagements be 
observed in their genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it 
is unnecessary and would be unwise to extend them. 

Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable 
establishments, on a respectable defensive posture, we 
may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary 
emergencies. 

Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are recom- 
mended by policy, humanity, and interest. But even our 
commercial policy should hold an equal and impartial 
hand ; neither seeking nor granting exclusive favors or 
preferences ; consulting the natural course of things ; 
diffusing and diversifying by gentle means the streams 
of commerce, but forcing nothing ; establishing, with 
powers so disposed, in order to give trade a stable course, 
to define the rights of our merchants, and to enable the 
government to support them, conventional rules of inter- 
course, the best that present circumstances and mutual 
opinion will permit, but temporary, and liable to be from 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 351 

time to time abandoned or varied, as experience and cir- 
cumstances shall dictate ; constantly keeping in view that 
it is folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors 
from another ; that it must pay with a portion of its 
independence for whatever it may accept under that 
character ; that, by such acceptance, it may place itself 
in the condition of having given equivalents for nominal 
favors, and yet of being reproached with ingratitude for 
not giving more. There can be no greater error than to 
expect or calculate upon real favors from nation to nation. 
It is an illusion which experience must cure, which a just 
pride ought to discard. 



THE BENEDICTION 

From the French of Francois Coppee 

It was in eighteen hundred — yes — and nine, 

That we took Saragossa. What a day 

Of untold horrors ! I was sergeant then. 

The city carried, we laid siege to houses, 

All shut up close, and with a treacherous look 

Raining down shots upon us from the windows. 

" 'Tis the priests' doing ! " was the word passed round ; 

So that, although since daybreak under arms, — 

Our eyes with powder smarting, and our mouths 

Bitter with kissing cartridge ends, — pin ! paff ! 

Rattled the musketry with ready aim, 

If shovel hat and long black cloak were seen v 

Flying in the distance. . . . All at once, 

Rounding a corner, we are hailed in French 

With cries for help. At double-quick we join 

Our hard-pressed comrades. They were grenadiers, 



352 school SPEAKER 

A gallant company, but beaten back 

Inglorious from the raised and flag-paved square 

Fronting a convent. Twenty stalwart monks 

Defended it — black demons with shaved crowns, 

The cross in white embroidered on their frocks, 

Barefoot, their sleeves tucked up, their only weapons 

Enormous crucifixes, so well brandished, 

Our men went down before them. By platoons 

Firing, we swept the place ; in fact, we slaughtered 

This terrible group of heroes, no more soul 

Being in us than in executioners. . . . The church 

Loomed up, its doors wide open. We went in. 

It was deserted. At the upper end, 

Turned to the altar as though unconcerned 

In the fierce battle that had raged, a priest, 

White-haired and tall of stature, to a close 

Was bringing tranquilly the mass. . . . 

" Shoot him ! " our captain cried. 
Not a soul budged. The priest, beyond all doubt, 
Heard ; but as though he heard not, turning round, 
He faced us, with the elevated host, 
And as he raised the pyx, and in the air 
With it described the cross, each man of us 
Fell back, aware the priest no more was trembling 
Than if before him the devout were ranged. 
But when, intoned with clear and mellow voice, 
The words came to us, 

" Vos benedicat 
Deus Omnipotens ! " 

The captain's order 
Rang out again, and sharply, " Shoot him down ! " 
. . . Then one of ours, a dastard, 
Leveled his gun, and fired. Upstanding still, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 353 

The priest changed color, though with steadfast look 
Set upwards, and indomitably stern. 
"Pater et Films ! " 

Came the words. What frenzy, 
What maddening thirst for blood, sent from our ranks 
Another shot, I know not ; but 'twas done. 

The monk, with one hand on the altar's ledge, 
Held himself up ; and, strenuous to complete 
His benediction, in the other raised 
The consecrated host. For the third time 
Tracing in air the symbol of forgiveness, 
With eyes closed, and in tones exceeding low, 
But in the general hush distinctly heard, 
" Et Sanctums Spiritus ! " 

He said ; and, ending 
His service, fell down dead. 

THE EMBARGO 
JOSIAH QuiXCY 

[A measure of retaliation against Great Britain, preceding the War of 1812.] 

I ask in what page of the Constitution you find the power 
of laying an embargo. Directly given, it is nowhere. 
Never before did society witness a total prohibition of all 
intercourse like this, in a commercial nation. But it has 
been asked in debate, " Will not Massachusetts, the cradle 
of liberty, submit to such privations ? " An embargo liberty 
was never cradled in Massachusetts. Our liberty was not 
so much a mountain nymph as a sea nymph. She was free 
as air. She could swim, or she could run. The ocean was 
her cradle. But an embargo liberty, a handcuffed liberty, 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 23 



354 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

liberty in fetters, a liberty traversing between the four 
sides of a prison and beating her head against the walls, is 
none of our offspring. We abjure the monster! Its 
parentage is all inland. 

Is embargo independence ? Deceive not yourselves ! 
It is palpable submission ! Gentlemen exclaim, " Great 
Britain smites us on one cheek ! " And what does admin- 
istration ? "It turns the other, also." Gentlemen say, 
" Great Britain is a robber ; she takes our cloak." And 
what says administration? " Let her take our coat also." 
France and Great Britain require you to relinquish a part 
of your commerce, and you yield it entirely ! At every 
corner of this great city we meet some gentlemen of the 
majority wringing their hands, and exclaiming: "What 
shall we do? Nothing but an embargo will save us. Re- 
move it, and what shall we do? " 

It is not for me, a humble and uninfluential individual, 
at an awful distance from the predominant influences, to 
suggest plans of government. But, to my eye, the path 
of our duty is as distinct as the Milky Way ; all studded 
with living sapphires, glowing with cumulating light. It 
is the path of active preparation, of dignified energy. It is 
the path of 1776 ! It consists not in abandoning our rights, 
but in supporting them, as they exist, and where they 
exist ; on the ocean, as well as on the land. 

But I shall be told, "This may lead to war." I ask, 
"Are we now at peace?" Certainly not, unless retiring 
from insult be peace ; unless shrinking under the lash be 
peace. The surest way to prevent war is not to fear it. 
The idea that nothing on earth is so dreadful as war is 
inculcated too studiously among us. Disgrace is worse ! 
Abandonment of essential rights is worse ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 355 

THE FIGHT OF THE ''ARMSTRONG" PRIVATEER 

.1 true story of the War o/1812 

From the Century Magazine, by permission of the publishers 

James Jeffrey Roche 

Tell the story to your sons 

Of the gallant days of yore 
When the brig of seven guns 

Fought the fleet of seven score 
From the set of sun till morn, through the long September 

night — 
Ninety men against two thousand, and the ninety won the 
fight — 
In the harbor of Fayal the Azore. 

Three lofty British ships came a-sailing to Fayal : 
One was a line of battle ship, and two were frigates tall ; 
Nelson's valiant men of war, brave as Britons ever are, 
Manned the guns they served so Avell at Aboukir and 

Trafalgar. 
At the setting of the sun and the ebbing of the tide 
Came the great ships one by one, with their portals opened 

wide, 
And their cannon frowning down on the castle and the town 
And the privateer that lay close inside ; 
Came the eighteen-gun Carnation and the Rota, forty-four, 
And the triple-decked Plantagenet an admiral's pennon 

bore ; 
And the privateer grew smaller as their topmasts towered 

taller, 
And she bent her springs and anchored by the castle on 

the shore. 



356 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Spake the noble Portuguese to the stranger : " Have no 
fear ; 

They are neutral waters these, and your ship is sacred here 

As if fifty stout armadas stood to shelter you from harm, 

For the honor of the Briton will defend you from his 
arm." 

But the privateersmen said: " Well we know the English- 
men, 

And their faith is written red in the Dartmoor slaughter- 
pen. 

Come what fortune God may send, we will fight them to 
the end, 

And the mercy of the sharks may spare us then." 

" Seize the pirate where she lies ! " cried the English 

admiral : 
"If the Portuguese protect her, all the worse for Portugal ! " 
And four launches at his bidding leaped impatient for the 

fray, 
Speeding shoreward where the Armstrong grim and dark 

and ready lay. 
Twice she hailed and gave them warning ; but the feeble 

menace scorning, 
On they came in splendid silence, till a cable's length 

away — 
Then the Yankee pivot spoke; Pico's thousand echoes 

woke, 
And four baffled, beaten launches drifted helpless on the 

bay. 

Then the wrath of Lloyd arose till the lion roared again, 
And he called out all his launches and he called five hun- 
dred men ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 357 

And he gave the word, " No quarter ! " and he sent them 

forth to smite. 
Heaven help the foe before him when the Briton comes in 

might ! 
Heaven helped the little Armstrong in her hour of bitter 

need ; 
God Almighty nerved the heart and guided well the arm 

of Reid. 

Launches to port and starboard, launches forward and 
aft, 

Fourteen launches together striking the little craft. 

They hacked at the boarding nettings, they SAvarmed above 
the rail ; 

But the Long Tom roared from his pivot and the grape- 
shot fell like hail : 

Pike and pistol and cutlass, and hearts that knew not 
fear, 

Bulwarks of brawn and mettle, guarded the privateer. 

And ever where fight was fiercest the form of Reid was 
seen ; 

Ever where foes drew nearest, his quick sword fell between. 
Once in the deadly strife 

The boarders' leader pressed 

Forward of all the rest, 
Challenging life for life; 

But ere their blades had crossed, 

A dying sailor tossed 

His pistol to Reid, and cried, 

" Now riddle the lubber's hide ! " 

But the privateersman laughed and flung the weapon aside, 

And he drove his blade to the hilt, and the foeman gasped 
and died. 



3f)8 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Then the boarders took to their Launches laden with hurt 

and dead, 
But little with glory burdened, and out of the battle fled. 

Now the tide was at flood again, and the night was almost 

done, 
When the sloop of war came up with her odds of two to 

one, 
And she opened fire ; but the Armstrong answered her gun 

for gun, 
And the gay Carnation wilted in half an hour of sun. 

Then the Armstrong, looking seaward, saw the mighty 

seventy-four, 
With her triple tier of cannon, drawing slowly to the shore. 
And the dauntless captain said : " Take our wounded and 

our dead, 
Bear them tenderly to land, for the Armstrong's days are 

o'er ; 
But no foe shall tread her deck and no flag above it wave — 
To the ship that saved our honor we will give a shipman's 

grave." 
So they did as he commanded, and they bore their mates 

to land, 
With the figurehead of Armstrong and the good sword in 

his hand. 
Then they turned the Long Tom downward, and the}' 

pierced her oaken side, 
And they cheered her, and they blessed her, and they 

sunk her in the tide. 

Tell the story to your sons, 

When the haughty stranger boasts 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 359 

Of his mighty ships and guns 

And the muster of his hosts, 
How the word of God was witnessed in the gallant days 

of yore 
When the twenty fled from one ere the rising of the sun ? 
In the harbor of Fayal the Azore ! 



OLD IRONSIDES 
Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Aye, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar : 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more ! 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

Or know the conquered knee : 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

O better that her shattered hulk 
Should sink beneath the wave ! 

Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 
And there should be her grave : 



300 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms, 

The lightning and the gale ! 

THE VILLAGE PREACHER 

From the Deserted Village 
Goldsmith 

Near yonder copse where once the garden smiled, 

And still where many a garden flower grows wild, 

There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 

The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 

A man he was to all the country dear, 

And passing rich with forty pounds a year. 

Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 

Nor e'er had changed, or wished to change, his place ; 

Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, 

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; 

Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 

More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. 

His house was known to all the vagrant train ; 

He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; 

The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 

Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 

The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, 

Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; 

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 

Sat by his fire and talked the night away, — 

Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 

Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won. 

Pleased with his guests the good man learned to glow, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 361 

And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 

His pity gave ere charity began. 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 

And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 

But, in his duty prompt at every call, 

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: 

And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 

He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 

Allured to brighter Avorlcls, and led the way. 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 

His looks adorned the venerable place ; 

Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, 

And fools who came to scoff remained to pray. 

The service passed, around the pious man 

With ready zeal each honest rustic ran ; 

E'en children followed, with endearing wile, 

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. 

His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed ; 

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; 

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 

But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 

Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

WATERLOO 

Byron 

There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then 



362 school SPEAKER 

Her Beauty and her Chivalry: and bright 
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; 
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 
Music rose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage bell ; — 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! 

Did ye not hear it ? — No ; — 'twas but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 
On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
No sleep till morn when Youth and Pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 
But hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
Arm ! arm ! it is ! — it is ! — the cannon's opening roar ! 

Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
Blush' d at the praise of their own loveliness ; 
And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
Since upon night so sweet* such awful morn could rise ? 

And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTION'S 363 

And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, 
Or whispering with white lips, " The foe ! they come, they 
come ! " 

And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering " rose ! 
The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills 
Have heard — and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : — 
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, 
Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers 
With the fierce native daring, which instills 
The stirring memory of a thousand years ; 
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears. 

And Ardennes waves about them her green leaves, 
Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving — if aught inanimate e'er grieves — 
Over the unreturning brave — alas ! 
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass, 
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
In its next verdure ; when this fiery mass 
Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low ! 

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 

Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay ; 

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife ; 

The morn, the marshaling in arms ; the day, 

Battle's magnificently stern array ! 

The thunderclouds close o'er it, which, when rent, 



364 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
Which her own clay shall cover — heap'd and pent, 
Rider and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial blent ! 

APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN 
Byron 

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society where none intrudes, 

By the deep Sea, and music in its roar ; 

I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 
From these, our interviews, in which I steal 

From all I may be, or have been before, 
To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! 

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 

Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain 

The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 

And monarchs tremble in their capitals ; 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 365 

Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, — 

These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, — what are they? 

Thy waters washed them power while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 

Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou, 
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play — 

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — 

Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 

Dark heaving ; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity — the throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 

Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear ; 
For I was, as it were, a child of thee, 

And trusted to thy billows far and near, 

And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 



306 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

EXHORTATION TO THE GREEKS 

Byron 

Approach, thou craven, crouching slave ! 

Say, is not this Thermopylae ? 
These waters blue that round you lave, 

O servile offspring of the free — 
Pronounce what sea, what shore, is this. 
The gulf, the rock, of Salainis ! 
These scenes, their story not unknown, 
Arise, and make again your own ; 
Snatch from the ashes of your sires 
The embers of their former fires ; 
And he who in the strife expires 
Will add to theirs a name of fear 
That Tyranny shall quake to hear ; 
And leave his sons a hope, a fame, 
They too will rather die than shame ; 
For Freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won. 

SYMPATHY WITH THE GREEKS 

Henry Clay 

And has it come to this ? Are we so humbled, so low, 
so debased, that we dare not express our sympathy for suffer- 
ing Greece, — that we dare not articulate our destestation 
of the brutal excesses of which she has been the bleeding 
victim, lest we might offend some one or more of their 
imperial and royal majesties ? If gentlemen are afraid 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 367 

to act rashly on such a subject, suppose, Mr. Chairman, 
that we unite in an humble petition, addressed to their 
majesties, beseeching them, that of their gracious con- 
descension, they would allow us to express our feelings 
and our sympathies. 

How shall it run ? " We, the representatives of the 
free people of the United States of America, humbly 
approach the thrones of your imperial and royal majesties, 
and supplicate that, of your imperial and royal clemency," 
— I cannot go through the disgusting recital ! My lips 
have not yet learned to pronounce the sycophantic lan- 
guage of a degraded slave ! 

Are we so mean, so base, so despicable, that we may 
not attempt to express our horror, utter our indignation, 
at the most brutal and atrocious war that ever stained 
earth or shocked high Heaven ; at the ferocious deeds 
of a savage and infuriated soldiery, stimulated and urged 
on by the clergy of a fanatical and inimical religion, and 
rioting in all the excesses of blood and butchery, at the 
mere details of which the heart sickens and recoils ? 

If the great body of Christendom can look on calmly 
and coolly whilst all this is perpetrated on a Christian 
people, in its own immediate vicinity, in its very presence, 
let us at least evince that one of its remote extremities 
is susceptible of sensibility to Christian wrongs, and 
capable of sympathy for Christian sufferings ; that in 
this remote quarter of the world there are hearts not yet 
closed against compassion for human woes, that can pour 
out their indignant feelings at the oppression of a people 
endeared to us by every ancient recollection and every 
modern tie. 

Sir, an attempt mis been made to alarm the committee 
by the dangers to our commerce in the Mediterranean ; 



368 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

and a wretched invoice of figs and opium has been spread 
before us to repress our sensibilities and to eradicate our 
humanity. Ah ! sir, " what shall it profit a man if he 
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" — or what 
shall it avail a nation to save the whole of a miserable 
trade, and lose its liberties ? 

MARCO BOZZARIS 
Fitz-Greene Halleck 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk lay dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power ; 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring — 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ! 
As wild his thoughts and gay of wing 

As Eden's garden bird. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke — 

That bright dream was his last. 
He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! " 
He woke — to die, midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, 

And death shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band — 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 369 

" Strike — till the last armed foe expires ! 
Strike — for your altars and your fires ! 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires ! 
God — and your native land ! " 

They fought — like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rung their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave 

Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — 

One of the few, the immortal names 

That were not born to die. 



THE SEPTEMBER GALE 
Oliver Wendell Holmes 

I'm not a chicken ; I have seen 
Full many a chill September, 

And though I was a youngster then, 
That gale I well remember ; 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 24 



070 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The day before, my kite string- snapped, 

And I, my kite pursuing, 
The wind whisked off my palm leaf hat ; — 

For me two storms were brewing ! 

It came as quarrels sometimes do, 

When married folks get clashing ; 
There was a heavy sigh or two, 

Before the fire was flashing, — 
A little stir among the clouds, 

Before they rent asunder, — 
A little rocking of the trees, 

And then came on the thunder. 

Lord ! how the ponds and rivers boiled, 

And how the shingles rattled ! 
And oaks were scattered on the ground, 

As if the Titans battled ; 
And all above was in a howl, 

And all below a clatter, — 
The earth was like a frying pan, 

Or some such hissing matter. 

It chanced to be our washing day, 

And all our things were drying : 
The storm came roaring through the lines, 

And set them all a-flying ; 
I saw the shirts and petticoats 

Go riding off like witches ; 
I lost, ah ! bitterly I wept, — 

I lost my Sunday breeches ! 

I saw them straddling through the air, 
Alas ! too late to win them ; 









MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 371 

I saw them chase the clouds, as if 

The devil had been in them ; 
They were my darlings and my pride, 

My boyhood's only riches, — 
"Farewell, farewell," I faintly cried, — 

" My breeches ! O my breeches ! " 

That night I saw them in my dreams, 

How changed from what I knew them ! 
The dews had steeped their faded threads, 

The winds had whistled through them ! 
I saw the wide and ghastly rents 

Where demon claws had torn them ; 
A hole was in their amplest part, 

As if an imp had worn them. 

I have had many happy years, 

And tailors kind and clever, 
But those young pantaloons have gone 

Forever and forever ! 
And not till fate has cut the last 

Of all my earthly stitches, 
This aching heart shall cease to mourn 

My loved, my long-lost breeches ! 



LIBERTY AND INTELLIGENCE 

John C. Calhoun 

Society can no more exist without government, in one 
form or another, than man without society. It is the 
political, then, which includes the social, that is his nat- 
ural state. It is the one for which his Creator formed 
him, into which he is impelled irresistibly, and in which 



372 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

only his race can exist, and all his faculties be fully devel- 
oped. Such being the case, it follows that any, the worst 
form of government, is better than anarchy ; and that in- 
dividual liberty or freedom must be subordinate to what- 
ever power may be necessary to protect society against 
anarchy within or destruction from without ; for the safety 
and well-being of society are as paramount to individual 
liberty, as the safety and well-being of the race is to that 
of individuals ; and, in the same proportion, the power 
necessary for the safety of society is paramount to indi- 
vidual liberty. On the contrary, government has no right 
to control individual liberty beyond what is necessary to 
the safety and well-being of society. Such is the bound- 
ary which separates the power of government and the 
liberty of the citizen or subject, in the political state, 
which, as I have shown, is the natural state of man, — 
the only one in which his race can exist, and the one in 
which he is born, lives, and dies. 

It follows, from all this, that the quantum of power on 
the part of the government, and of liberty on that of indi- 
viduals, instead of being equal in all cases, must neces- 
sarily be very unequal among different people according 
to their different conditions. For, just in proportion as 
a people are ignorant, stupid, debased, corrupt, exposed 
to violence within and danger without, the power neces- 
sary for government to possess, in order to preserve soci- 
ety against anarchy and destruction, becomes greater and 
greater, and individual liberty less and less, until the low- 
est condition is reached, when absolute and despotic power 
becomes necessary on the part of the government, and 
individual liberty extinct. So, on the contrary, just as 
a people rise in the" scale of intelligence, virtue, and pa- 
triotism, and the more perfectly they become acquainted 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 373 

with the nature of government, the ends for which it was 
ordered, and how it ought to be administered, and the 
less the tendency to violence and disorder within and 
danger from abroad, the power necessary for government 
becomes less and less, and individual liberty greater and 
greater. Instead, then, of all men having the same right 
to liberty and equality, as is claimed by those who hold 
that they are all born free and equal, liberty is the 
noble and highest reward bestowed on mental and moral 
development, combined with favorable circumstances. In- 
stead, then, of liberty and equality being born with man, 
— instead of all men and all classes and descriptions 
being equally entitled to them, — they are high prizes 
to be won ; and are, in their most perfect state, not only 
the highest reward that can be bestowed on our race, but 
the most difficult to be won, and, when won, the most 
difficult to be preserved. 



THE LAST LEAF 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 

I saw him once before, 
As he passed by the door ; 

And again 
The pavement stones resound 
As he totters o'er the ground 

With his cane. 

They say that in his prime, 
Ere the pruning knife of time 
Cut him down, 



374 school speaker 

Not a better man was found 
By the crier on his round 
Through the town. 

But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets 

Sad and wan ; 
And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 

" They are gone." 

The mossy marbles rest 

On the lips that he has pressed 

In their bloom ; 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 

On the tomb. 

My grandmamma has said — 
Poor old lady ! she is dead 

Long ago — 
That he had a Roman nose, 
And his cheek was like a rose 

In the snow. 

But now his nose is thin, 
And it rests upon his chin 

Like a staff ; 
And a crook is in his back, 
And a melancholy crack 

In his laugh. 

I know it is a sin 
For me to sit and grin 
At him here, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 375 

But the old three-cornered hat, 
And the breeehes, — and all that, 
Are so queer ! 

And if I should live to be 
The last leaf upon the tree 

In the spring, 
Let them smile, as I do now, 
At the old forsaken bough 

Where I cling. 

A CUKTA1N LECTURE OF MRS. CAUDLE 
Douglas Jerkold 

Bah ! that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas.— 
What were you to do ? Why, let him go home in the 
rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing 
about him that could spoil. — Take cold, indeed ! He 
doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, 
he'd have better taken cold than taken our umbrella. — 
Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear 
the rain ? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't St. Swithin's day! 
Do you hear it against the window ? 

Nonsense : you don't impose upon me ; you can't be 
asleep with such a shower as that ! Do you hear it, I 
say ? Oh, you do hear it ! — Well, that's a pretty flood, 
I think, to last for six weeks ; and no stirring all the 
time out of the house. Pooh ! don't think me a fool, Mr. 
Caudle ; don't insult me ! he return the umbrella ! Any- 
body would think you were born yesterday. As if any- 
body ever did return an umbrella ! 

There : do you hear it ? Worse and worse. Cats and 
dogs, and for six weeks : always six weeks ; and no urn- 



376 school speaker 

brella ! J should like to know how the children are to 
go to school to-morrow. They shan't go through such 
weather ; I am determined. No ; they shall stop at 
home, and never learn anything, the blessed creatures ! 
sooner than go and get wet ! And when they grow up, 
I wonder who they'll have to thank for knowing nothing ; 
who, indeed, but their father ! People who can't feel for 
their own children ought never to be fathers. 

But I know why you lent the umbrella : Oh, yes, I 
know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's 
to-morrow : you knew that, and you did it on purpose. 
Don't tell me ; you hate to have me go there, and take 
every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think 
it, Mr. Caudle ; no, sir ; if it comes down in buckets full, 
I'll go all the more. 

No ; and I won't have a cab ! Where do you think the 
money's to come from ? You've got nice high notions at 
that club of yours ! A cab, indeed ! Cost me sixteen 
pence, at least : sixteen pence ! two and eight pence ; for 
there's back again. Cabs, indeed ! I should like to know 
who's to pay for 'em ; for I'm sure you can't, if you go 
on as you do, throwing away your property, and beggar- 
ing your children, buying umbrellas ! 

Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle ? I say, do you hear 
it? But I don't care; I'll go to mother's to-morrow — 
I will ; and what's more, I'll walk every step of the way ; 
and you know that will give me my death. — Don't call 
me a foolish woman ; it's you that's the foolish man. You 
know I can't wear clogs ; and with no umbrella, the wet's 
sure to give me a cold — it always does. But what do 
you care for that ? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for 
all you care, as I dare say I shall; and a pretty doctor's 
bill there'll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 377 

lend your umbrellas again. J shouldn't wonder if I 
fa ught my death : yes, and that's what you lent the 
umbrella for. Of course ! 

Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like 
this ! My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. — I 
needn't wear 'em then ! Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 
'em. No, sir ; I am not going out a dowdy to please you 
or anybody else. Gracious knows ! it isn't often that I 
step over the threshold ; indeed, I might as well be a 
slave at once : better, I should say ; but when I do go 
out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. Oh, that rain! 
if it isn't enough to break in the windows. 

Ugh ! I look forward with dread to to-morrow ! How 
I am to go to mother's, I am sure I can't tell, but if I die, 
I'll do it. — No, sir; I won't borrow an umbrella: no; 
and you shan't buy one. (With great emphasis.') Mr. 
Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella I'll throw it 
into the street. 

Ha ! and it was only last Aveek I had a new nozzle put 
to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd have known as much 
as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying 
for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you ! Oh, 
it's all very well for you ; you can go to sleep. You've 
no thought of your poor patient wife, and your own dear 
children ; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas ! 

Men, indeed ! Call themselves lords of the creation ! 
pretty lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella! 

I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me, 
but that's what you want : then you may go to your club, 
and do as you like ; and then nicely my poor dear children 
will be used ; but then, sir, then you'll be happy. — Oh, 
don't tell me ! I know you will : else you'd never have 
lent the umbrella ! 



378 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The children, dear tilings ! they'll he sopping wet ; for 
they shan't stay at home ; they shan't lose their learning ; 
it's all their father will leave them, I'm sure. — But they 
shall go to school. Don't tell me they needn't : you are 
so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the temper of an 
angel ; they shall go to school ! mark that : and if they 
get their deaths of cold, it's not my fault ; I didn't lend 
the umbrella. 

" Here," says Caudle, in his manuscript, " I fell asleep, 
and dreamed that the sky was turned into green calico, 
with whalebone ribs : that, in fact, the whole world re- 
volved under a tremendous umbrella ! " 



THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA 

Abridged 
Whittier 

Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far 

away 
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array ; 
Who is losing? Who is winning? Are they far? Or 

come they near? 
Look abroad and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we 

hear? 

" Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle 

rolls ; 
Blood is flowing ! Men are dying ! — God have mercy on 

their souls ! " 
Who is losing? Who is winning? " Over hill and over 

plain, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 379 

I see but smoke of cannon clouding through the mountain 
rain." 

Look forth once more, Ximena ! " Ah ! the smoke has 

rolled away ; 
And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of 

gray. 
Hark ! that sudden blast of bugles ! there the troop of 

Minon wheels ! 
There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at 

their heels ! 

" Jesu pity ! How it thickens ! Now retreat, and now 

advance ! 
Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging 

lance ! 
Down they go, the brave young riders ! horse and foot 

together fall : 
Like a plowshare in the fallow, through them plows the 

Northern ball ! 

" Lo ! the wind the smoke is lifting ! Blessed Mother ! 

save my brain ! 
I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of 

slain ! 
Now they stagger, blind and bleeding ! now they fall, and 

strive to rise. 
Hasten, sisters, haste ! and save them ! lest they die before 

our eyes ! 

" Oh, my heart's love ! Oh, my dear one ! lay thy jDoor 

head on my knee ! 
Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee ? Canst thou hear 

me ? Canst thou see ? 



380 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Oli, my husband, brave and gentle ! Oh, my Bernal ! 

look once more 
On the blessed cross before thee ! Mercy ! mercy ! all is 



Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena ! lay thy dear one down 

to rest ; 
Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his 

breast ; 
Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral masses 

said ; 
To-day, thou poor bereaved one ! the living ask thy aid. 

Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a 

soldier lay, 
Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his 

life away ;' 
But as tenderly before him the lorn' Ximena knelt, 
She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt ! 

With a stifled cry of horror, straight she turned away her 

head ! 
With a sad and bitter feeling, looked she back upon her 

dead ! 
But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his struggling 

breath of pain, 
And she raised the cooling water to his parching lips 

again ! 

Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand, and 

faintly smiled ; 
Was that pitying face his mother's ? did she watch beside 

her child ? 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 381 

All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart 

supplied ; 
With a kiss upon his forehead, " Mother ! " murmured he, 

and died ! 

" A bitter curse upon them, poor boy ! who led thee forth 
From some gentle, sad-eyed mother weeping lonely in the 

North ! " 
Spake the mournful Mexic woman as she laid him with 

her dead, 
And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds 

which bled. 

Not wholly lost, O Father ! is this evil world of ours ! 
Upward through its blood and ashes spring afresh the 

Eden flowers ! 
From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity send their 

prayer ! 
And still thy white-winged angels hover daily in our air ! 



THE COTTRTIN' 
James Russell Lowell 

Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown, 
An' peeked in thru the winder, 

An' there sot Huldy all alone, 
'ith no one nigh to hender. 

Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung, 

An' in amongst 'em rusted 
The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young 

Fetched back from Concord busted. 



382 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The wammt logs shot sparkles out 
Towards the pootiest, bless her ! 

An' lee tie fires danced all about 
The chiny on the dresser. 

The very room, coz she wuz in, 
Looked warm from floor to ceilin', 

An' she looked full as rosy agin 
Ez th' apples she wuz peelin'. 

She heerd a foot an' knowed it, tu, 
A raspin' on the scraper, — 

All ways to once her feelin's flew 
Like sparks in burnt-up paper. 

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, 
Some cloubtfle o' the seekle ; 

His heart kep' goin' pitypat, 
But hern went pity Zekle. 

An' yet she gin her cheer a jerk 
Ez though she wished him furder, 

An' on her apples kep' to work 
Ez ef a wager spurred her. 

" You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " 
" Wal, no ; I come designin' — " 

" To see my Ma ? She's sprinklin' clo'es 
Agin' to-morrow's i'nin'." 

He stood a spell on one foot fust, 
Then stood a spell on t'other, 

An' on which one he felt the wust 
He couldn't ha' told ye, nuther. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 383 

Sez he, " I'd better call agin ; " 
Sez she, " Think likely, Mister ;" 

The last word pricked him like a pin, 
An' — wal, he up and kist her. 

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, 

Huldy sot pale ez ashes, 
All kind o' smily round the lips 

An' teary round the lashes. 

Her blood riz quick, though, like the tide 

Down to the Bay o' Fundy, 
An' all I know is they wuz cried 

In meetin', come nex' Sunday. 



LIBERTY AND UNION 

Reply to Hayne 

Daniel Webster 

Mr. President : I have thus stated the reasons of my 
dissent to the doctrines which have been advanced and 
maintained. I am conscious of having detained you and 
the Senate much too long. I was drawn into the debate, 
with no previous deliberation, such as is suited to the dis- 
cussion of so grave and important a subject. But it is a 
subject of which my heart is full, and I have not been 
willing to suppress the utterance of its spontaneous senti- 
ments. 

I cannot, even now, persuade myself to relinquish it, 
without expressing, once more, my deep conviction, that 
since it respects nothing less than the Union of the states, 
it is of most vital and essential importance to the public 



384 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

happiness. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have 
kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the 
whole country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. 
It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our 
consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union 
that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most 
proud of our country. That Union we reached only by 
the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of 
adversity. 

It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, 
prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign 
influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from 
the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every 
year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its 
utility and its blessings ; and, although our territory has 
stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread 
farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection 
or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain 
of national, social, personal happiness. 

I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the 
Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess 
behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of pre- 
serving liberty, when the bonds that unite us together 
shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself 
to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, 
with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss 
below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counselor in the 
affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be 
mainly bent on considering, not how the Union might 
be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the con- 
dition of the people when it shall be broken up and 
destroyed. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratify- 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 385 

ing prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. 
Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant 
that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise ! God 
grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies be- 
hind ! When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last 
time, the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on 
the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious 
Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on 
a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in 
fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering 
glance, rather, behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, 
now known and honored throughout the earth, still full 
high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their 
original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a 
single star obscured — bearing for its motto no such 
miserable interrogatory as " What is all this worth ? " nor 
those other words of delusion and folly, " Liberty first, 
and Union afterward " — but everywhere, spread all over 
in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, 
as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every 
wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, — 
dear to every true American heart, — Liberty and Union 
now and forever, one and inseparable ! 



TOUSSAINT LOUVERTURE 
Wendell Phillips 

[The negro patriot eulogized in this oration and in the following sonnet, after 
freeing his country was, in violation of the treaty of peace, seized and con- 
veyed to France, where he died of starvation in a dungeon.] 

If I were to tell you the story of Napoleon, I should 
take it from the lips of Frenchmen, who find no language 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. — 25 



386 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

rich enough to paint the great captain of the nineteenth 
century. Were I to tell you the story of Washington, I 
should take it from your hearts, — you, who think no 
marble white enough on which to carve the name of the 
Father of his country. But I am to tell you the story of 
a negro, Toussaint L'Ouverture, who has left hardly one 
written line. I am to glean it from the reluctant testi- 
mony of his enemies, men who despised him because he 
was a negro and a slave, hated him because he had beaten 
them in battle. 

Cromwell manufactured his own army. Napoleon, at 
the age of twenty-seven, was placed at the head of the 
best troops Europe ever saw. Cromwell never saw an 
army till he was forty ; this man never saw a soldier till 
he was fifty. Cromwell manufactured his own army — 
out of what? Englishmen, — the best blood in Europe. 
Out of the middle class of Englishmen, — the best blood of 
the island. And with it he conquered what? English- 
men, — their equals. This man manufactured his army 
out of what ? Out of what } 7 ou call the despicable race of 
negroes, debased, demoralized by two hundred years of 
slavery, one hundred thousand of them imported into the 
island within four years, unable to speak a dialect intelli- 
gible even to each other. Yet out of this mixed, and, as 
you say, despicable mass he forged a thunderbolt, and 
hurled it at what ? At the proudest blood in Europe, the 
Spaniard, and sent him home conquered ; at the most war- 
like blood in Europe, the French, and put them under his 
feet ; at the pluckiest blood in Europe, the English, and 
they skulked home to Jamaica. Now, if Cromwell was a 
general, at least this man was a soldier. 

Now, blue-eyed Saxon, proud of your race, go back with 
me to the commencement of the century, and select what 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 387 

states] nan you please. Let him be either American or 
European ; let him have a brain the result of six genera- 
tions of culture ; let him have the ripest training of uni- 
versity routine ; let him acid to it the better education of 
practical life ; crown his temples with the silver locks of 
seventy years, and show me the man of Saxon lineage for 
whom his most sanguine admirer will wreathe a laurel, 
rich as embittered foes have placed on the brow of this 
negro, — rare military skill, profound knowledge of human 
nature, content to blot out all party distinctions, and trust 
a state to the blood of its sons, — anticipating Sir Robert 
Peel fifty years, and taking his station by the side of Roger 
Williams, before any Englishman or American had won 
the right ; and yet this is the record which the history 
of rival states makes up for this inspired black of St. 
Domingo. 

Some doubt the courage of the negro. Go to Haiti, 
and stand on those fifty thousand graves of the best soldiers 
France ever had, and ask them what they think of the 
negro's sword. 

I would call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his way 
to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. 
This man never broke his word. I would call him Crom- 
well, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he 
founded went down with him into his grave. I would call 
him Washington, but the great Virginian held slaves. 
This man risked his empire rather than permit the slave 
trade in the humblest village of his dominions. 

You think me a fanatic, for you read history, not with 
your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, 
when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of history will put 
Phocion for the Greek, Brutus for the Roman, Hampden 
for England, Fayette for France, choose Washington as 



388 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, 
then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the 
clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the 
statesman, the martyr, Toussaint L'Ouvertube. 

TOUSSALNT L'OUVERTUIIE 

Wordsworth 

Toussaint, the most" unhappy man of men ! 
Whether the all-cheering sun be free to shed 
His beams around thee, or thou rest thy head 
Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den. 
O miserable chieftain ! where and when 
Wilt thou find patience ? Yet die not ; do thou 
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow : 
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, 
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind 
Powers that will work for thee : air, earth, and skies. 
There's not a breathing of the common wind 
That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; 
Thy friends are exultations, agonies, 
And love, and man's unconquerable mind. 

OLD FEZZIWIG'S BALL 

Charles Dickens 

Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the 
clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his 
hands ; adjusted his capacious waistcoat ; laughed all over 
himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence ; and 
called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice : 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 389 

" Yo ho, there, Ebenezer ! Dick ! Yo ho, my boys ! No 
more work to-night. Christmas eve, Dick. Christmas, 
Ebenezer ! Let's have the shutters up, before a man can 
say Jack Robinson ! Clear away, my lads, and let's have 
lots of room here ! " 

Clear away ! There was nothing they wouldn't have 
cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old 
Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every 
movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from 
public life fore verm ore ; the floor was swept and watered, 
the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire ; 
and the warehouse was as snug and warm and dry and 
bright a ballroom as you would desire to see upon a 
winter's night. 

In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the 
lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like 
fifty stomachaches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast 
substantial smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, 
beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers 
whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men 
and women employed in the business. In came the house- 
maid, with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with 
her brother's particular friend the milkman. In they all 
came one after another ; some shyly, some boldly, some 
gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling ; 
in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all 
went, twenty couple at once ; hands half round and back 
again the other way ; down the middle and up again ; 
round and round in various stages of affectionate group- 
ing ; old top couple always turning up in the wrong 
place ; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they 
got there ; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one 
to help them. When this result was brought about, old 



390 school 8PEAKEB 

Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, 
"Well done !" and the fiddler plunged his hot face into 
a pot of porter especially provided for that purpose. 

There were more dances, then there were forfeits, and 
more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, 
and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was 
a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince pies, 
and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening 
came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck 
up " Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out 
to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too ; with a 
good stiff piece of work cut out for them ; three or four 
and twenty pair of partners ; people who were not to be 
trifled with ; people who ivould dance, and had no notion 
of walking. 

But if they had been twice as many, — four times, — 
old Fezziwig would have been a match for them and so 
would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be 
his partner in every sense of the term. A positive light 
appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in 
every part of the dance. You couldn't have predicted, 
at any given time, what would become of 'em next. And 
when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through 
the dance, — advance and retire, turn your partner, bow 
and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back 
again to your place, — Fezziwig " cut," — cut so deftly, 
that he appeared to wink with his legs. 

When the clock struck eleven this domestic ball broke 
up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on 
either side the door, and shaking hands with every person 
individually as he or she went out, wished him or her 
a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but 
the two 'prentices, they did the same to them ; and thus 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 391 

the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left 
to their beds which were under a counter in the back 
shop. 

MR. WINKLE ON SKATES 

From the Pickwick Papers 

Charles Dickens 

" Now," said Wardle, " what say you to an hour on 
the ice ? You skate, of course, Winkle ? " 

" Ye — yes ; oh, yes; " replied Mr. Winkle. "I — am 
rather out of practice." 

" Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. " I like to 
see it so much." 

" Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady. 

A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth 
expressed her opinion that it was "swanlike." 

"■ I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, 
reddening ; " but I have no skates." 

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a 
couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were 
half a dozen more, downstairs ; whereat Mr. Winkle ex- 
pressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncom- 
fortable. 

Old Wardle led the way to a pretty, large sheet of ice ; 
where Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexter- 
ity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvelous, and 
described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight ; 
and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for 
breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing 
devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, 
Mr. Tupman, and the ladies : which reached a pitch of posi- 



392 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

tive enthusiasm, when old War die and Benjamin Allen, 
assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some 
mystic evolutions which they called a reel. 

All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands 
blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the 
soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the 
points behind, and getting the straps into a very 
complicated and entangled state, with the assistance 
of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates 
than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assist- 
ance of Mr. Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly 
screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to 
his feet. 

"Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone; 
" off with you, and show 'em how to do it." 

" Stop, Sam, stop ! " said Mr. Winkle, trembling vio- 
lently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp 
of a drowning man. " How slippery it is, Sam ! " 

"Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. 
Weller. " Hold up, sir ! " 

This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to 
a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a 
frantic desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the 
back of his head on the ice. 

" These — these — are very awkward skates ; a'n't they, 
Sam ? " inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. 

"I'm afeerd there's an orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," 
replied Sam. 

" Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious 
that there was anything the matter. " Come ; the ladies 
are all anxiety." 

" Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile, 
" I'm coming." 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 393 

" Just a-goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to dis- 
engage himself. " Now, sir, start off ! " 

" Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging 
most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a 
couple of coats at home, that I don't want, Sam. You 
may have them, Sam." 

" Thankee, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 

" Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle, 
hastily. " You needn't take your hand away to do that. 
I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for 
a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this afternoon, 
Sam." 

" You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 

" Just hold me at first, Sam ; will you ? " said Mr. 
Winkle. " There — that's right. I shall soon get in the 
way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." 

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with" his body half 
doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, 
in a very singular and unswanlike manner, when Mr. 
Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite 
bank : — 

" Sam ! " 

" Sir ? " said Mr. Weller. 

" Here. I want you." 

" Let go, sir," said Sam. " Don't you hear the governor 
a-callin' ? Let go, sir." 

With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself 
from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian ; and, in so 
doing, administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy 
Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dex- 
terity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate 
gentleman bore swiftly down into the center of the reel, 
at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing 



394 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck 
wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell 
heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer 
had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far loo wise to 
do anything of the kind, in skates. He was seated on the 
ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; but anguish was 
depicted on every line of his countenance. 

Mr. Pickwick beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a 
stern voice, "Take his skates off." 

" No ; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated 
Mr. Winkle. 

" Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly. 

The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle 
allowed Sam to obey it, in silence. 

" Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him 
to rise. 

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the by- 
standers ; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a 
searching look upon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct 
and emphatic tone, these remarkable words : — 

" You're a humbug, sir." 

" A what ? " said Mr. Winkle, starting. 

" A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. 
An impostor, sir." 

With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his 
heel, and rejoined his friends. 

OUR REPUBLIC 

Everett 

We are summoned to new energy and zeal by the high 
nature of the experiment we are appointed in Providence 
to make, and the grandeur of the theater on which it is to 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 395 

be performed. At a moment of deep and general agita- 
tion in the Old World, it pleased Heaven to open this new 
continent, as a last refuge of humanity. The attempt has 
begun, and is going on, far from foreign corruption, on the 
broadest scale, and under the most benignant prospects ; 
and it certainly rests with us to solve the great problem 
in human society ; to settle, and that forever, the mo- 
mentous question, whether mankind can be trusted with 
a purely popular system of government? 

One might almost think, without extravagance, that the 
departed wise and good, of all places and times, are look- 
ing down from their happy seats to witness what shall 
now be done by us; that they who lavished their treasures 
and their blood, of old, who spake and wrote, who labored, 
fought, and perished, in the one great cause of freedom 
and truth, are now hanging, from their orbs on high, over 
the last solemn experiment of humanity. As I have wan- 
dered over the spots once the scene of their labors, and 
mused among the prostrate columns of their senate houses 
and forums, I have seemed almost to hear a voice from the 
tombs of departed ages, from the sepulchers of the nations 
which died before the sight. 

They exhort us, they adjure us, to be faithful to our 
trust. They implore us, by the long trials of struggling 
humanity ; by the blessed memory of the departed ; by 
the dear faith which has been plighted by pure hands 
to the holy cause of truth and man ; by the awful secrets 
of the prison house, wdiere the sons of freedom have been 
immured ; by the noble heads which have been brought to 
the block ; by the wrecks of time, by the eloquent ruins 
of nations ; they conjure us not to quench the light which 
is rising on the world. Greece cries to us by the con- 
vulsed lips of her poisoned, dying Demosthenes ; and 



396 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

Rome pleads with us in the mute persuasion of her man- 
gled Tully. 

BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC 

Julia Ward Howe 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 

are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift 

sword, 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling 

camps ; 
They have build ed Him an altar in the evening dews and 

damps ; 
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring 

lamps, 

His days are marching on. 

I have read a fiery Gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : 
" As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace 

shall deal ; 
Let the Hero born of woman crush the serpent with His 

heel, 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 

retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment 

seat ; 
O, be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant my feet ! 
Our God is inarching on. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 397 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and nie ; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 



DE QUINCY S DEED 
Homer Greene 

Red on the morn's rim rose the sun ; 

Bright on the field's breast lay the dew ; 
Soft fell the light on saber and gun 

Grasped by the brave and true. 
Death to many, and fame to the one 

Came ere the day was through. 

u Straight to the hilltop ! Who's there first, 

We or the foe, shall win this day." 
So spake De Quincy. Then, like a burst 

Of splendor, he led the way ; 
He and his white steed both athirst 

For the mad sport of the fray. 

" Charge ! " What a wild leap ! One bright mass 
Whirls, like a storm cloud, up the hill ; 

Hoofs in a fierce beat bruise the grass, 
Clang of the steel rings shrill ; 

Eyes of the men flash fire as they pass, 
Hearts in the hot race thrill. 

See! From an open cottage lane 

Sallies a child, where the meadow dips ; 
Only a babe, with the last refrain 



398 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Of the mother's song on its lips ; 
Straight in the path of the charging train, 
Fearless, the little one trips. 

Under the iron hoofs ! Whose the fault ? 

Killed ? It is naught if the day be won. 
On ! to the — " Halt ! " How he thunders it ! " Halt ! " 

What has De Quincy done ? 
Checked in a moment the quick assault, 

Struck back saber and gun. 

" Back ! " till the horses stand pawing the air, 
Throwing their riders from stirrup to mane ; 

Down from his saddle he bends, to where 
The little one fronts the train ; 

Lifts her with care, till her golden hair 
Falls on his cheek like rain. 

Bears her from harm as he would his child, 
Kisses and leaves her, with vanquished fears, 

Thunders his " Forward ! " and sees the wild 
Surge of his troops through tears. 

The fight ? Did they win it ? Aye ! victory smiled 
On him and his men for years. 

UNITED IN DEATH 

Anonymous 

There was no fierceness in the eyes of those men now, 
as they sat face to face on the bank of the stream ; the 
strife and the anger had all gone now, and they sat still, 
— dying men, who but a few hours before had been 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 399 

deadly foes, — sat still, and looked at each other. At 
last one of them spoke, " We haven't either of us a 
chance to hold out much longer, 1 judge." "No," said 
the other, with a little mixture of sadness and reckless- 
ness, " you did that last job of yours well, as that bears 
witness," and he pointed to a wound a little above the 
heart, from which the lifeblood was slowly oozing. "Not 
better than you did yours," answered the other, with a 
grim smile, and he pointed to a wound a little higher up, 
larger and more ragged, — a deadly wound. 

Then the two men gazed upon each other again in the 
dim light ; for the moon had come over the hills now, and 
stood among the stars like a pearl of great price. And 
as they looked, a soft feeling stole over the heart of 
each toward his fallen foe, — a feeling of pity for the 
strong, manly life laid low, a feeling of regret for the 
inexorable necessity of war, which made each man 
the slayer of the other ; and at last one spoke, " There 
are some folks in the world that'll feel worse when you 
are gone out of it." 

A spasm of pain was on the bronzed, ghastly features. 
" Yes," said the man, in husky tones, " there's one woman 
with a boy and girl, away up among the New Hampshire 
mountains, that it will well-nigh kill to hear of this : " 
and he groaned out in bitter anguish, " O God, have pity 
on my wife and children ! " The other drew closer to 
him : " And away down among the cotton fields of 
Georgia, there's a woman and a little girl whose hearts 
will break when they hear what this day has done ; " and 
then the cry wrung itself sharply out of his heart, " O 
God, have pity upon them ! " From that moment the 
Northerner and the Southerner ceased to be foes. The 
thought of those distant homes on which the anguish was 



400 school SPEAKER 

to fall drew them closer together in that last hour, and 
the two men wept like little children. 

At last the Northerner spoke, talking more to himself 
than to any one else, and he did not know that the other 
was listening greedily to every word : " She used to come, 

— my little girl, bless her heart ! — every night to meet 
me when I came home from the fields ; and she would 
stand under the great plum tree that's just beyond the 
back door at home, with the sunlight making yellow 
brown in her golden curls, and the laugh dancing in her 
eyes when she heard the click of the gate, — I see her now, 

— and I'd take her in my arms, and she'd put up her little 
red lips for a kiss ; but my little darling will never watch 
under the old plum tree by the well for her father again. 
J shall never hear the cry of joy as she catches a glimpse 
of me at the gate. I shall never see her little feet running 
over the grass to spring into my arms again ! " 

" Then," said the Southerner, " there's a little brown- 
eyed, brown-haired girl, that used to watch in the cool 
afternoons for her father, when he rode in from his visit 
to the plantations. I can see her sweet little face shining 
out now, from the roses that covered the pillars, and hear 
her shouts of joy as I bounded from my horse, and chased 
the little flying feet up and down the veranda again." 

The Northerner drew near to the Southerner, and spoke 
now in a husky whisper, for the eyes of the dying men 
were glazing fast : " We have fought here, like men, to- 
gether. We are going before God in a little while. Let 
us forgive each other." The Southerner tried to speak, 
but the sound died away in a murmur from his white lips; 
but he took the hand of his fallen foe, and his stiffening 
fingers closed over it, and his last look was a smile of for- 
giveness and peace. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 401 

When the next morning's sun walked up the gray stairs 
of the dawn, it looked down and saw the two foes lying 
dead, with their hands clasped, by the stream which ran 
close to the battlefield ; and the little girl with golden 
hair, that watched under the plum tree, among the hills of 
New Hampshire, and the little girl with bright brown 
hair, that waited by the roses, among the green fields of 
Georgia, were fatherless. 

DEDICATION OF GETTYSBURG CEMETERY 
Abraham Lincoln 

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth 
upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and 
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. 
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether 
that nation — or any nation so conceived and so dedicated 
— can long endure. 

We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We 
are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting place 
of those who have given their lives that that nation might 
live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should 
do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot 
consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave 
men, living and dead, who struggled here, have conse- 
crated it, far above our power to add or to detract. The 
world will very little note nor long remember what we 
say here ; but it can never forget what they did here. 

It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated, here, to 
the unfinished work that they have thus far so nobly 
carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 26 



402 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

the great task remaining before us; that from these hon- 
ored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for 
which they here gave the last full measure of devotion ; 
that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have 
died in vain ; that the nation shall, under God, have a 
new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, 
by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the 
earth. 

DECORATION DAY 

Abridged 
W. Bourke Cochran 

The character of a nation is often known by its festivals. 
The character of the festival we celebrate to-day is the 
most unique in the history of the world. We celebrate 
in all its entirety the sublime epoch when fidelity to the 
republic triumphed over the dangers that comprised the 
Civil War, and we emerged from the conflict radiant with 
the light of liberty established and indestructible Ameri- 
can institutions with the undying vigor of American 
patriotism. The conflict in which we engaged was not 
made by the generation in which we live. It was a 
legacy handed clown by the fathers of the republic after 
the foreign invader had been driven out. 

But the Union soldier was great in peace as well as in 
war. His was not merely a triumph of arms ; it was a 
triumph of heart and mind, for the Union soldier won the 
love of the foe that he vanquished. To-day, throughout 
the length and breadth of the country, there is a love 
for the flag of the Union. To-day the Union stands not 
defended by armed force or by frowning fortresses. Its 
foundations are laid in the hearts of our citizens, South 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 403 

as well as North, and it will be durable and eternal because 
of that foundation. But although the vigor of the Union 
soldier in taking up arms was creditable to him, he also 
deserves credit for the manner in which he laid down his 
arms. Never before did a victorious army so lay down 
its arms at the behest of civil rulers without the slightest 
disturbance throughout the length and breadth of the 
land. 

The lesson which this day teaches above all others is 
that no matter what difficulties may arise, the patriotism 
of this republic will be able to surmount them. No 
matter what dangers may threaten our institutions, there 
is always to be in reserve the American patriotism suffi- 
cient to solve eveiy question and surmount every difficulty. 
The victory of the Union soldiers proved the capacity and 
the power of this patriotism which underlies American 
citizenship. No sooner had the smoke lifted from Southern 
battlefields : no sooner had the rivers that had run red 
with blood once more resumed their course clear and pel- 
lucid to the sea, and the South was seen humbled, than 
the men of the North turned with charity and brotherly 
love to the aid of the men with whom they had fought. 
The victory which was achieved for the Union was thus 
made a permanent one for the union of these states. 

The lesson of the Union was not ended in 1865. The 
mission of the Union soldier did not close with the war. 
It continues to-day as a patriotism which is the best 
security of the government. We are reminded of the 
survivors as w r e turn to-day from the graves of the brave 
men who were the heroes of the war. 

On the Capitol at Washington, surmounting the great 
dome where Congress is in session, there may be seen a 
bright light high above all else on the building. And as 



404 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

you recede from the place, and the turrets and fluted 
columns of the edifice disappear in the darkness, the light 
at the top seems to be higher and higher, and finally seems 
to blend with the horizon until finally only this light marks 
the temple of freedom of our beloved government. And, 
as we celebrate this Decoration Day, looking back on the 
martyrs of the Civil War, their deeds shall be to us the 
brilliant light which shall grow ever brighter and brighter, 
and illumine the pathway of the republic to liberty, pros- 
perity, and happiness. 



THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 

F. M. Finch 

By the flow of the inland river, 

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, 
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, 
Asleep on the ranks of the dead : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Under the one, the Blue, 
Under the other, the Gray. 

These in the robings of glory, 

Those in the gloom of defeat, 
All with the battle-blood gory, 
In the dusk of eternity meet : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Under the laurel, the Blue, 
Under the willow, the Gray. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 405 

From the silence of sorrowful hours, 

r l he desolate mourners go, 
Lovingly laden with flowers, 

Alike for the friend and the foe : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Under the roses, the Blue, 
Under the lilies, the Gray. 

So, with an equal splendor, 

The morning sun-rays fall, 
With a touch impartially tender, 

On the blossoms blooming for all : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Broidered with gold, the Blue, 
Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 

So, when the Summer calleth, 
On forest and field of grain, 
With an equal murmur falleth 
The cooling drip of the rain : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Wet with the rain, the Blue, 
Wet with the rain, the Gray. 

Sadly, but not with upbraiding, 
The generous deed was done ; 
In the storm of the years that are fading, 
No braver battle was won : — 
Under the sod and the dew, 
Waiting the judgment day ; 



406 school SPEAKER 

Under the blossoms, the Blue, 
Under the garlands, the Gray 

No more shall the war cry sever, 
Or the winding rivers be red ; 
They banish our anger forever 

When they laurel the graves of our dead ! 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day ; 
Love and tears for the Blue, 
Tears and love for the Gray. 

Lincoln's second inaugural address 

March 4, 1865 
Condensed 

Fellow-countrymen : At this second appearing to 
take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occa- 
sion for an extended address than there was at the first. 
At the expiration of four years, during which public 
declarations have been constantly called forth on every 
point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs 
the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, 
little that is new could be presented. 

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, 
all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending 
civil war. All dreaded it, all sought to avoid it. Both 
parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war 
rather than let the nation survive, and the other would 
accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came. 
One eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, 
not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 407 

the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a pe- 
culiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest 
was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, per- 
petuate, and extend this interest was the object for which 
the insurgents would rend the Union by war, while the 
government claimed no right to do more than to restrict 
the territorial enlargement of it. 

Neither party expected for the war the magnitude" or 
the duration which it has already attained. Neither 
anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease, or 
even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked 
for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and 
astounding. 

Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, 
and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem 
strange that an}^ men should dare to ask a just God's 
assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other 
men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. 
The prayer of both could not be answered. That of 
neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His 
own purposes. Woe unto the world because of offenses, 
for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to 
that man by whom the offense cometh. If we shall 
suppose that American slavery is one of these offenses 
which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but 
which, having continued through His appointed time, He 
now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North 
and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by 
whom the offense came, shall we discern there any de- 
parture from those divine attributes which the believers 
in a living God always ascribe to Him ? Fondly do we 
hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of 
war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it 



408 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two 
hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, 
and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall 
be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said 
three thousand years ago, so, still it must be said, that the 
judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. 
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with 
firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let 
us finish the Avork we are in, to bind up the nation's 
wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, 
and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may 
achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among our- 
selves and with all nations. 



O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN ! 

On the death of Lincoln 

Walt Whitman 

O Captain, my Captain ! our fearful trip is done ; 

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is 

won ; 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and 

daring ; 
But, O heart, heart, heart ! O the bleeding drops of red, 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain, my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells ; 
Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle 

trills, 
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the 

shores a-crowding ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 409 

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces 

turning ; 
Here, Captain, dear father ! this arm beneath your head ! 
It is some dream that on the deck, you've fallen cold and 

dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still ; 
My Captain does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will ; 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage is closed 

and done ; 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won ; 
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells ! but I with mournful 

tread 
Walk the deck where my Captain lies, fallen cold and dead. 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

From London Punch 

Tom Taylor 

You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier, 
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, 

Broad for the self-complacent British sneer, 

His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, 

His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair, 
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, 

His lack of all we prize as debonair, 

Of power or will to shine, of art to please? 

You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, 
Judging each step as though the way was plain ; 

Reckless, so it could point its paragraph, 
Of chief's perplexity or people's pain, — 



410 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet 

The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, 
Between the mourners at his head and feet, 
Say, scurrile jester, is there room for you? 

Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer, 
To lame my pencil and confute my pen ; 

To make me own this hind, of princes peer, 
This rail splitter, a true-born king of men. 

My shallow judgment I had learned to rue, 
Noting how to occasion's height he rose ; 

How his quaint wit made home truth seem more true ; 
How, ironlike, his temper grew by blows ; 

How humble, yet how hopeful he could be ; 

How in good fortune and in ill the same ; 
Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he, 

Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. 

He went about his work, such work as few 
Ever had laid on head and heart and hand, 

As one who knows, where there's a task to do, 

Man's honest will must heaven's good grace command. 

So he went forth to battle, on the side 

That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, 

As in his peasant boyhood he had plied 

His warfare with rude nature's thwarting mights : 

The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, 

The iron bark that turns the lumberer's ax, 

The rapid that o'erbears the boatman's toil, 

The prairie hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 411 

The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear, 

Such were the deeds that helped his youth to train ; 

Rough culture, but such trees large fruit may bear, 
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain. 

So he grew up, a destined work to do, 

And lived to do it ; four long, suffering years, 

111 fate, ill feeling, ill report lived through, 
And then he heard the hisses change to cheers, 

The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise, 

And took both with the same unwavering mood, 

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days, 

And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood, 

A felon hand, between the goal and him, 

Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest, 

And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, 
Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest. 

The words of mercy were upon his lips, 
Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, 

When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse 
To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men. 

The Old World and the New, from sea to sea, 
Utter one voice of sympathy and shame. 

Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high ! 
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came ! 

A deed accursed ! Strokes have been struck before 
By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt 

If more of horror or disgrace they bore ; 

But thy foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out. 



412 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife, 

Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven, 

And with the martyr's crown crownest a life 
With much to praise, little to be forgiven. 



TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN 
Emilio Castelar 

The Puritans are the patriarchs of liberty ; they opened 
a new world on the earth ; they opened a new path for 
the human conscience ; they created a new society. Yet, 
when England tried to subdue them and they conquered, 
the Republic triumphed and slavery remained. Washing- 
ton could emancipate only his own slaves. Franklin said 
that the Virginians could not invoke the name of God, 
retaining slavery. Jay said that all the prayers America 
sent up to heaven for the preservation of liberty while sla- 
very continued were mere blasphemies. Mason mourned 
over the payment his descendants must make for this great 
crime of their fathers. Jefferson traced the line where 
the black wave of slavery should be stayed. 

Nevertheless, slavery increased continually. I beg that 
you will pause a moment to consider the man who cleansed 
this terrible stain which obscured the stars of the Ameri- 
can banner. I beg that you will pause a moment, for his 
immortal name has been invoked for the perpetuation of 
slavery. Ah ! the past century has not, the century to 
come will not have, a figure so grand, because as evil dis- 
appears so disappears heroism also. 

I have often contemplated and described his life. Born 
in a cabin of Kentucky, of parents who could hardly read ; 
born a new Moses in the solitude of the desert, where 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 413 

are forged all great and obstinate thoughts, monotonous 
like the desert, and, like the desert, sublime ; growing up 
among those primeval forests, which, with their fragrance, 
send a cloud of incense, and, with their murmurs, a cloud 
of prayers to heaven ; a boatman at eight years in the im- 
petuous current of the Ohio, and at seventeen in the vast 
and tranquil waters of the Mississippi ; later, a woodman, 
with ax and arm felling the immemorial trees, to open 
a way to unexplored regions for his tribe of wandering 
workers ; reading no other book than the Bible, the book of 
great sorrows and great hopes, dictated often by prophets 
to the sound of fetters they dragged through Nineveh and 
Babylon ; a child of Nature, in a word, by one of those 
miracles only comprehensible among free peoples, he fought 
for the country, and was raised by his fellow-citizens to 
the Congress at Washington, and by the nation to the 
presidency of the Republic ; and when the evil grew 
more virulent, when those states were dissolved, when 
the slaveholders uttered their war cry and the slaves 
their groans of despair — the wood cutter, the boatman, 
the son of the great West, the descendant of Quakers, 
humblest of the humble before his conscience, great- 
est of the great before history, ascends the Capitol, 
the greatest moral height of our time, and strong and 
serene with his conscience and his thought ; before him a 
veteran army, hostile Europe behind him, England favor- 
ing the South, France encouraging reaction in Mexico, in 
his hands the riven country ; he arms two millions of men, 
gathers a half million of horses, sends his artillery twelve 
hundred miles in a week, from the banks of the Potomac 
to the shores of Tennessee ; fights more than six hundred 
battles ; renews before Richmond the deeds of Alexander, 
of Ca3sar ; and, after having emancipated three million 



414 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

slaves, that nothing might be wanting, lie dies in the very 
moment of victory — like Christ, like Socrates, like all 
redeemers, at the foot of his work. His work ! Sublime 
achievement ! over which humanity shall eternally shed 
its tears, and God his benedictions ! 



SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH 
Arthur Hugh Clough 

Say not the struggle nought availeth, 
The labor and the wounds are vain, 

The enemy faints not, nor faileth, 

And as things have been they remain. 

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; 

It may be, in yon smoke concealed, 
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, 

And, but for you, possess the field. 

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 
Seem here no painful inch to gain, 

Far back, through creeks and inlets making, 
Comes silent, flooding in, the main. 

And not by eastern windows only, 

When daylight comes, comes in the light ; 

In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, 
But westward, look, the land is bright. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 

RING OUT, WILD BELLS 
Tennyson 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light ; 
The year is dying in the night ; 

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow ; 
The year is going ; let him go ; 

Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out the grief that saps the mind, 
For those that here we see no more ; 
Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

Ring in redress to all mankind. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause, 

And ancient forms of party strife ; 
Ring in the nobler modes of life, 

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

Ring out the want, the care, the sin, 
The faithless coldness of the times ; 
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 

But ring the fuller minstrel in. 

Ring out false pride, in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite ; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 

Ring in the common love of good. 



416 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease, 
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold, 
Ring out the thousand woes of old, 

Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land, 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

THE YARN OF THE "NANCY P.ELL " 
W. S. Gilbert 

'Twas on the shores that round our coast 

From Deal to Ramsgate span, 
That I found alone on a piece of stone 

An elderly naval man. 

His hair was weedy, his beard was long, 

And weedy and long was he, 
And I heard this wight on the shore recite 

In a singular minor key : 

" Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, 
And the mate of the Nancy brig, 

And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 
And the crew of the captain's gig ! " 

And he shook his fists, and he tore his hair, 

Till I really felt afraid, 
For I couldn't help thinking the man had been 
drinking, 

And so I simply said : 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 417 

" Oh, elderly man, it's little I know 

Of the duties of men of the sea, 
And I'll eat my hand if I understand 

How you can possibly be 

" At once a cook and a captain bold, 

And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 

And the crew of the captain's gig-" 

" 'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell 

That we sailed to the Indian sea, 
And there on a reef we come to grief, 

Which has often occurred to me. 

" And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned 

(There was seventy-seven o' soul), 
And only ten of the Nancy's men 

Said 4 Here ! ' to the muster roll. 

" There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, 

And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite 

And the crew of the captain's gig. 

cw For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, 

Till a-hungry we did feel, 
So we drawed a lot, and accordin' shot 

The captain for our meal. 

" The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, 

And a delicate dish he made ; 
Then our appetite with the midshipmite 

We seven survivors stayed. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 27 



41S SCHOOL SPEAKER 

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, 

And lie much resembled pig, 
Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, 

On the crew of the captain's gig. 

" Then only the cook and me was left, 

And the delicate question, 'Which 
Of us two goes to the kettle ? ' arose, 

And we argued it out as sich. 

" For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, 

And the cook he worshiped me ; 
But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed 

In the other chap's hold, you see. 

" ' I'll be eat if you dines of me,' says Tom ; 

1 Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be.' 
4 I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I ; 

And ' Exactly so,' quoth he. 

" Says he, ' Dear James, to murder me 

Were a foolish thing to do, 
For don't you see that you can't cook me, 

While I can — and will — cook you ! ' 

" So he boils the water, and takes the salt 

And the pepper in portions true 
(Which he never forgot), and some chopped shallot 

And some sage and parsley too. 

" c Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, 

Which his smiling features tell, 
' 'Twill soothing be if I let you see 

How extremely nice you'll smell.' 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 419 

" And he stirred it round and round and round, 
And lie sniffed at the foaming froth — 

When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals 
In the scum of the boiling broth. 

" And I eat that cook in a week or less, 

And — as I eating be 
The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, 

For a wessel in sight I see. 

*' And I never grieve, and I never smile, 

And I never larf nor play, 
But I sit and croak, and a single joke 

I have — which is to say : 

" Oh, I am a cook, and a captain bold, 

And the mate of the Nancy brig, 
And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, 

And the crew of the captain's gig ! " 



CAUGHT IN THE QUICKSAND 
Victor Hugo 

It sometimes happens that a man, traveler or fisherman, 
walking on the beach at low tide, far from the bank, sud- 
denly notices that for several minutes he has been walking 
with some difficulty. The strand beneath his feet is like 
pitch ; his soles stick in it ; it is sand no longer ; it is 
glue. 

The beach is perfectly dry, but at every step he takes, 
as soon as he lifts his foot, the print which it leaves fills 
with water. The eye, however, has noticed no change ; 
the immense strand is smooth and tranquil ; all the sand 




420 SCHOOL SPEAKEK 

liits the same appearance; nothing distinguishes the sur- 
face which is solid from that which is no Longer so ; the 
joyous little crowd of sand flies continue to leap tumult- 
ously over the wayfarer's feet. The man pursues his way, 
goes forward, inclines to the land, endeavors to get nearer 
the upland. 

He is not anxious. Anxious about what? Only he 
feels, somehow, as if the weight of his feet increases with 
every step he takes. Suddenly he sinks in. 

He sinks in two or three inches. Decidedly he is not 
on the right road ; he stops to take his bearings ; now he 
looks at his feet. They have disappeared. The sand 
covers them. He draws them out of the sand ; he will 
retrace his steps. He turns back, he sinks in deeper. 
The sand comes up to his ankles ; he pulls himself out 
and throws himself to the left — the sand half -leg deep. 
He throws himself to the right ; the sand comes up to his 
knees. Then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that 
he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has beneath 
him the terrible medium in which man can no more walk 
than the fish can swim. He throws off his load if he has 
one, lightens himself as a ship in distress ; it is already 
too late. He calls, he waves his hat or his handkerchief ; 
the sand gains on him more and more. He feels that he 
is being swallowed up. He howls, implores, cries to the 
clouds, despairs. 

Behold him waist deep in the sand. The sand reaches 
his breast ; he is now only a bust. He raises his arms, 
utters furious groans, clutches the beach with his nails, 
would hold by that straw, leans upon his elbows to pull 
himself out of this soft sheath ; sobs f renziedly ; the sand 
rises ; the sand reaches his shoulders ; the sand reaches 
his neck ; the face alone is visible now. The mouth cries, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 421 

the sand fills it — silence. The eyes still gaze, the sand 
shuts them — night. Now the forehead decreases, a little 
hair flatters above the sand ; a hand comes to the surface 
of the beach, moves, and shakes, disappears. Sinister 
effacement of a man ! 

NATIONAL MORALITY 
Beecher 

The crisis has come. By the people of this generation, 
by ourselves, probably, the amazing question is to be de- 
cided : whether the inheritance of our fathers shall be 
preserved or thrown away ; whether our Sabbaths shall 
be a delight or a loathing ; whether the taverns, on that 
holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, or the sanctu- 
ary of God with humble worshipers ; whether riot and 
profaneness shall fill our streets, and poverty our dwell- 
ings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land ; or 
whether industry and temperance and righteousness shall 
be the stability of our times ; whether mild laws shall re- 
ceive the cheerful submission of freemen, or the iron rod 
of a tyrant compel the trembling homage of slaves. 

Be not deceived. Our rocks and hills will remain till 
the last conflagration. But let the Sabbath be profaned 
with impunity, the worship of God be abandoned, the gov- 
ernment and religious instruction of children be neglected, 
and the streams of intemperance be permitted to flow, and 
her glory will depart. The wall of fire will no longer 
surround her, and the munition of rocks will no longer 
be her defense. The hand that overturns our laws and 
temples is the hand of death, unbarring the gate of pan- 
demonium, and letting loose upon our land the crimes and 
miseries of hell. 



422 SCHOOL SPEAKEB 

If the Most High should stand aloof, and cast not a 
single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it would seem 
to be full of superlative woe. But he will not stand aloof. 
As we shall have begun an open controversy with him, he 
will contend openly with us. And never, since the earth 
stood, has it been so fearful a thing for nations to fall into 
the hands of the living God. 

The day of vengeance is at hand. The day of judgment 
has come. The great earthquake which sinks Babylon is 
shaking the nations, and the waves of the mighty com- 
motion are dashing upon every shore. Is this, then, a 
time to remove the foundations, when the earth itself is 
shaken ? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, 
when the hearts of men are failing them for fear, and for 
looking after those things which are to come upon the 
earth? Is this a time to run upon his neck and the thick 
bosses of his buckler, when the nations are drinking blood, 
and fainting, and passing away in his wrath ? 

Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith, when 
his arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain ? to cut 
from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting, 
and the sea and the waves are roaring, and thunders are 
uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the heavens, 
and the great hail is falling from heaven upon men, and 
every mountain, sea, and island, is fleeing in dismay from 
the face of an incensed God ? 



THE MUSIC GRINDERS 

O. W. Holmes 

There are three ways in which men take 
One's money from his purse, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 423 

And very hard it is to tell 

Which of the three is worse ; 
But all of them are bad enough 

To make a body curse. 

You're riding out some pleasant day, 

And counting up your gains ; 
A fellow jumps from out a bush, 

And takes your horse's reins, 
Another hints some words about 

A bullet in your brains. 

It's hard to meet such pressing friends 

In such a lonely spot ; 
It's very hard to lose your cash, 

But harder to be shot ; 
And so you take your wallet out, 

Though you would rather not. 

Perhaps you're going out to dine, — 

Some filthy creature begs 
You'll hear about the cannon ball 

That carried off his pegs, 
And says it is a dreadful thing 

For men to lose their legs. 

He tells you of his starving wife, 

His children to be fed, 
Poor little, lovely innocents, 

All clamorous for bread, — 
And so you kindly help to put 

A bachelor to bed. 

You're sitting on your window seat, 
Beneath a cloudless moon; 



424 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

You hear a sound, that seems to wear 

The semblance of a tune, 
As if a broken fife should strive 

To drown a cracked bassoon. 

And nearer, nearer still, the tide 

Of music seems to come, 
There's something like a human voice, 

And something like a drum ; 
You sit in speechless agony, 

Until your ear is numb. 

Poor " home, sweet home " should seem to be 

A very dismal place ; 
Your " auld acquaintance " all at once 

Is altered in the face ; 
Their discords sting through Burns and Moore, 

Like hedgehogs dressed in lace. 

You think they are crusaders, sent 

From some infernal clime, 
To pluck the eyes of Sentiment, 

And clock the tail of Rhyme, 
To crack the voice of Melody, 

And break the legs of Time. 

But hark! the air again is still, 

The music all is ground, 
And silence, like a poultice, comes 

To heal the blows of sound; 
It cannot be, — it is, — it is, — 

A hat is going round! 

No! Pay the dentist when he leaves 
A fracture in your jaw, 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 425 

And pay the owner of the bear, 

That stunned you with his paw, 

And buy the lobster that has had 
Your knuckles in his claw ; 

But if you are a portly man, 

Put on your fiercest frown, 

And talk about a constable 

To turn them out of town ; 

Then close your sentence with an oath, 
And shut the window down! 

And if you are a slender man, 

Not big enough for that, 
Or, if you cannot make a speech, 

Because you are a flat, 
Go very quietly and drop 

A button in the hat ! 

NATURE A HARD CREDITOR 

Thomas Carlyle 

Nature admits no lie. Most men profess to be aware 
of this, but few in any measure lay it to heart. Except 
in the departments of mere material manipulation, it 
seems to be taken practically as if this grand truth were 
merely a polite flourish of rhetoric. Nature keeps silently 
a most exact savings bank and official register, correct to 
the most evanescent item, debtor and creditor, in respect 
to one and all of us ; silently marks down, creditor by 
such and such an unseen act of veracity and heroism ; 
debtor to such a loud, blustery blunder, twenty-seven 
million strong or one unit strong, and to all acts and 



426 school SPEAKER 

words and thoughts executed in consequence of that, — 
debtor, debtor, debtor, day after day, rigorously as fate 
(for this is fate that is writing) ; and at the end of the 
account you will have it all to pay, my friend ; — there 
is the rub ! Not the infinitesimalest fraction of a farthing 
but will be found marked there, for you and against you ; 
and with the due rate of interest you will have to pay it, 
neatly, completely, as sure as you are alive. You will 
have to pay it even in money, if you live : and, poor 
slave, do you think there is no payment but in money ? 
There is a payment which nature rigorously exacts of men, 
and also of nations, — and this I think when her wrath 
is sternest, — in the shape of dooming you to possess 
money : — to possess it ; to have your bloated vanities 
fostered into monstrosity by it ; your foul passions blown 
into explosion by it ; your heart, and, perhaps, your very 
stomach, ruined with intoxication by it ; your poor life, 
and all its manful activities, stunned into frenzy and 
comatose sleep by it ; — in one word, as the old prophets 
said, your soul forever lost by it : your soul, so that through 
the eternities you shall have no soul, or manful trace of 
ever having had a soul; but only, for certain fleeting 
moments, shall have had a money bag, and have given 
soul and heart, and (frightfuler still) stomach itself, in 
fatal exchange for the same. You wretched mortal, 
stumbling about in a God's temple, and thinking it a 
brutal cookery shop ! Nature, when her scorn of a slave 
is divinest, and blazes like the blinding lightning against 
his slavehood, often enough flings him a bag of money, 
silently saying : " That ! Away ; thy doom is that ! " 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 427 

England's true greatness 

John Bright 

I believe there is no permanent greatness to a nation 
except it be based upon morality. I do not care for mili- 
tary greatness or military renown. I care for the condi- 
tion of the people among whom I live. Palaces, baronial 
castles, great halls, stately mansions, do not make a 
nation. The nation in every country dwells in the cot- 
tage ; and unless the light of your constitution can shine 
there, unless the beauty of your legislation and the 
excellence of your statesmanship are impressed there on 
the feelings and condition of the people, rely upon it you 
have yet to learn the duties of government. 

The most ancient of profane historians has told us that 
the Scythians of his time were a very warlike people, and 
that they elevated an old scimeter upon a platform as 
a symbol of Mars. To this scimeter they offered more 
costly sacrifices than to all the rest of their gods. I often 
ask myself whether we are at all advanced in one respect 
beyond the Scythians. What are our contributions to 
charity, to education, to morality, to religion, to justice, 
and to civil government, when compared with the wealth 
Ave expend in sacrifices to the old scimeter ? 

We are assured, however, that Rome pursued a policy 
similar to ours for a period of eight centuries, and that 
for those eight centuries she remained great. But what 
is Rome now ? The great city is dead. A poet has de- 
scribed her as "the lone mother of dead empires." Her 
language even is dead. Her very tombs are empty ; the 
ashes of her most illustrious citizens are dispersed. " The 
Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now." Yet, I am asked, 



428 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

I who am one of the legislators of a Christian country, to 
measure my policy by the policy of ancient and pagan 
Rome ! May I ask you to believe, as I do most devoutly 
believe, that the moral law was not written for men alone 
in their individual character, but that it was written as 
well for nations, and for nations great as this of which Ave 
are citizens. If nations reject and deride that moral law, 
there is a penalty that will inevitably follow. It may not 
come at once, it may not come in our lifetime, but rely 
upon it, the great Italian is not a poet only, but a prophet, 
when he says : " The sword of heaven is not in haste to 
smite, nor doth it linger." We have experience, we have 
beacons, we have landmarks enough. It is true, we have 
not, as an ancient people had, Urim and Thummim, those 
oracular gems on Aaron's breast, from which to take 
counsel, but we have the unchangeable and eternal 
principles of the moral law to guide us, and only so far 
as we walk by that guidance can we be permanently a 
great nation, or our people a happy people. 

HOW I EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER 

By permission. Copyright, 1875, by S. C. Clemens 
S. C. Clemens (Mark Twain) 

I did not take the temporary editorship of an agri- 
cultural paper without misgivings. But I was in circum- 
stances that made the salary an object. 

On the way to the office, the morning after we went to 
press, I found people standing here and there in the street, 
watching me with interest. I heard a man say, "Look 
at his eye ! " I pretended not to observe the notice I was 
attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was 
purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 429 

Presently an old gentleman entered. He seemed to have 
something on his mind. He set his hat on the floor, and 
got out a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our paper. 

He put the paper on his lap, and, while he polished his 
spectacles with his handkerchief, he said, " Are you the 
new editor?" I said I was. 

" Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before ? " 

"No," I said, "this is my first attempt." 

" Very likely. Have you had any experience in agri- 
culture practically ? " 

"No, I believe I have not." 

" Some instinct told me so," said he. " I wish to read 
you what made me have that instinct. It was this 
editorial : — 

" ' Turnips should never be pulled, it injures them. It is much 
better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.' 

" Now what do you think of that?" 

"Think of it? Why, I think it is good. I think it is 
sense. I have no doubt that every year millions of bushels 
of turnips are spoiled in this township alone by being 
pulled in a half-ripe condition, when, if they had sent a 
boy up to shake the tree — " 

" Shake your grandmother ! Turnips don't grow on 
trees ! " 

" Oh, they don't, don't they? Well, who said they did? 
The language was intended to be figurative. Anybody 
that knows anything will know that I meant that the boy 
should shake the vine." 

Then the old man got up and tore his paper into shreds, 
and stamped on them, and broke several things with his 
cane, and said I didn't know so much as a cow; and 
banged the door after him, and, in short, acted in such a 
way that I fancied he was displeased about something. 



430 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Pretty soon, ;t Long, cadaverous creature, with lanky 
locks hanging down to his shoulders, and a week's stubble 
bristling from the hills and valleys of his face, darted in 
and halted motionless, with linger on lip, and head and 
body bent in listening attitude. Then he turned the key 
in the door, and came tiptoeing toward me till he was 
within long reaching distance, when he stopped, and after 
scanning my face with interest, drew a eopy of our paper 
from his bosom, and said : — 

" There, you wrote that. Read it to me, quick ! Re- 
lieve me ; I suffer." 

I read as follows ; and as the sentences fell from my lips 
I could see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go 
out of the face, and rest and peace steal over the features 
like moonlight over a desolate landscape : — 

" ' The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing 
it. It should not be imported earlier than June or later than Septem- 
ber. In the winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can 
hatch out its young. 

" ' It is evident that we are to have a backward season for grain. 
Therefore it will be well for the farmer to begin setting out his corn- 
stalks and planting his buckwheat cakes in July instead of August. 

"'Concerning the pumpkin. — This berry is a favorite with the 
natives of the interior of New England, who prefer it to the goose- 
berry for the making of fruit cake, and who, likewise, give it the pref- 
erence over the raspberry for feeding cows, as being more filling and 
fully as satisfying. But the custom of planting it in the front yard 
with the shrubbery is fast going out of vogue, for it is now generally 
conceded that the pumpkin as a shade tree is a failure.' " 

The excited listener sprang toward me, and said : — 

" There, there, that will do ! I know I am all right 

now, because you have read it just as I did. But, stranger, 

when I first read it this morning I said to myself, 4 1 never 

believed it before; but now I believe I am crazy.' I read 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 431 

one of those paragraphs over again, so as to be certain, 
and then I burned my house down and started. I have 
crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree, 
where I can o-et him if I want him. But I thought I 
would call in here as I passed along, and make the thing 
perfectly certain. Good-by, sir, good-by ; you have taken 
a great load off my mind. My reason has stood the strain 
of one of your agricultural articles, and I know that noth- 
ing can ever unseat it now. G-ood-by, sir." 

I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and 
arsons this person had been entertaining himself with, but 
these thoughts were quickly banished, for the regular 
editor walked in. 

He surveyed the wreck, and said : " This is a sad busi- 
ness — a very sad business. There is the mucilage bottle 
broken, and six panes of glass, and a spittoon and two 
candlesticks. But that is not the^worst. The reputation 
of the paper is injured, permanently, I fear. True, there 
never was such a call for the paper before, and it never 
sold such a large edition or soared to such celebrity ; but 
does one want to be famous for lunacy, and prosper upon 
the infirmities of the mind? Why, what put it into your 
head that you could edit a paper of this nature? You 
speak of a furrow and a harrow as being the same thing ; 
you talk of the molting season for cows ; and you recom- 
mend the domestication of the polecat, on account of its 
pla}~f ulness and its excellence as a ratter. Your remark 
that clams will lie quiet if music be played to them, was 
entirely superfluous. Nothing disturbs clams. Clams 
always lie quiet. Heavens and earth ! if you had made 
the acquiring of ignorance the study of your life, you 
could not have graduated with higher honor than } r ou 
have to-day. I want you to throw up your situation and 



432 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

go. I want no more holiday — I could not enjoy it if I 
had it. It makes me lose all patience to think of your 
discussing oyster beds under the head of ' Landscape 
Gardening.' I want you to go. Oh, why didn't you tell 
me you didn't understand agriculture." 

" Tell you, you cornstalk, you cabbage ? It's the first 
time I ever heard such an unfeeling remark. Sir, I have 
been through the newspaper business from Alpha to 
Omaha, and I tell you that the less a man knows, the 
bigger the noise he makes and the higher the salary he 
commands. Heaven knows if I had been ignorant instead 
of cultivated, and impudent instead of diffident, I could 
have made a name for myself in this cold, selfish world. 
But I have done my duty. I said I could run your circu- 
lation up to twenty thousand copies, and if I had tAvo 
more weeks I'd have done it. And I'd have given you 
the best class of readers that ever an agricultural paper 
had — not a farmer in it, nor a solitary individual who 
could tell a watermelon tree from a peach vine to save his 
life. You are the loser by this rupture, not me, — Pie- 
plant ! Adios." 

I then left. 

EMPIRE AND LIBERTY 

W. E. Gladstone 

Gentlemen : The Prime Minister [Lord Beaconsfield], 
in a recent address, made what I think one of the most 
unhappy and ominous allusions ever made by a minister 
of this country. He quoted certain words easily rendered 
as " Empire and Liberty " — words (he said) of a Roman 
statesman, words descriptive of the state of Rome, and he 
quoted them as words which were capable of legitimate 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 483 

application to the position and circumstances of England. 
I join issue with the Prime Minister upon that subject, and 
I affirm that nothing can be more fundamentally unsound, 
more practically ruinous, than the establishment of Roman 
analogies for the guidance of British policy. 

What, gentlemen, was Rome ? Rome was indeed an 
imperial state ; you may tell me — I know not, I cannot 
read the counsels of Providence, — a state having a mis- 
sion to subdue the world, but a state whose very basis it 
was to deny the equal rights, to proscribe the independent 
existence of other nations. 

No doubt the word " Empire " was qualified with the 
word " Liberty." But what did the two words u Liberty" 
and " Empire " mean in the Roman mouth ? They meant 
simply this : " Liberty for ourselves, Empire over the rest 
of mankind." 

Gentlemen, it is but in a pale and weak and almost 
despicable miniature that such ideas are now set up, but 
you will observe that the poison lies in the principle and 
not the scale. It is the opposite principle which I call 
upon you to vindicate when the day of our election comes. 
I mean the sound and sacred principle that Christendom 
is formed of a band of nations who are united to each 
other in the bonds of right ; that they are without dis- 
tinction of great and small ; there is absolute equality 
between them, — the same sacredness defends the narrow 
limits of Belgium as attaches to the extended frontiers of 
Russia, or Germany, or France. 

I hold that he who by act or word brings that principle 
into peril or disparagement, however honest his intentions 
may be, places himself in the position of one inflicting 
injury upon his own country, and endangering the peace 
and all the most fundamental interests of Christian society. 

SOU. SCH. SPEA. 28 



484 school SPEAKER 

ON THE OTHER TRAIN 
A Clock's Story 

" There, Simmons, you blockhead ! Why didn't you 
trot that old woman aboard her train ? She'll have to 
wait here now until the 1.05 A.M." 

"You didn't tell me." 

" Yes, I did tell you. 'Twas only your confounded 
stupid carelessness." 

-She — " 

" She ! You fool ! What else could you expect o f her ! 
Probably she hasn't any wit ; besides, she isn't bound on 
a very jolly journey — got a pass up the road to the poor- 
house. I'll go and tell her, and if you forget her to-night, 
see if I don't make mince-meat of you ! " and our worthy 
ticket agent shook his fist menacingly at his subordi- 
nate. 

" You've missed your train, marm," he remarked, com- 
ing forward to a queer looking bundle in the corner. 

A trembling hand raised the faded black veil, and re- 
vealed the sweetest old face I ever saw. 

" Never mind," said a quivering voice. 

" 'Tis only three o'clock now; you'll have to wait until 
the night train, which doesn't go up until 1.05." 

" Very well, sir; I can wait." 

" Wouldn't you like to go to some hotel? Simmons 
will show you the way." 

" No, thank you, sir. One place is as good as another 
to me. Besides, I haven't any money." 

" Very well," said the agent, turning away indifferently. 
"Simmons will tell you when it's time." 

All the afternoon she sat there so quiet that I thought 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 435 

sometimes she must be asleep, but when I looked more 
elosely I could see every once in a while a great tear roll- 
ing down her cheek, which she would wipe away hastily 
with her cotton handkerchief. 

The depot was crowded, and all was bustle and hurry 
until the 9.50 train going east came due; then every pas- 
senger left except the old lady. It is very rare, indeed, 
that any one takes the night express, and almost always 
after ten o'clock the depot becomes silent and empty. 

The ticket agent put on his greatcoat, and, bidding 
Simmons keep his wits about him for once in his life, de- 
parted for home. 

But he had no sooner gone than that functionary 
stretched himself out upon the table, as usual, and began 
to snore vociferously. 

Then it was I witnessed such a sight as I never had 
before and never expect to again. 

The fire had gone down — it was a cold night, and 
the wind howled dismally outside. The lamps grew dim 
and flared, casting weird shadows upon the wall. By and 
by I heard a smothered sob from the corner, then another. 
I looked in that direction. She had risen from her seat, 
and oh ! the look of agony on the poor pinched face. 

" I can't believe it," she sobbed, wringing her thin, white 
hands. " Oh ! I can't believe it ! My babies ! my babies ! 
how often have I held them in my arms and kissed them ; 
and how often they used to say back to me, ' Ise love you, 
mamma,' and now, O God ! they've turned against me. 
Where am I going ? To the poorhouse ! No ! no ! no ! I 
cannot ! I will not ! Oh, the disgrace ! " 

And sinking upon her knees, she sobbed out in prayer: 

" O God ! spare me this and take me home ! O God, 
spare me this disgrace ; spare me ! " 



436 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

The wind rose higher and swept through the crevices, 
icy cold. How it moaned and seemed to sob like some- 
thing human that is hurt. I began to shake, but the 
kneeling figure never stirred. The thin shawl had dropped 
from her shoulders unheeded. Simmons turned over and 
drew his blanket more closely about him. 

Oh, how cold ! Only one lamp remained, burning dimly ; 
the other two had gone out for want of oil. I could hardly 
see, it was so dark. 

At last she became quieter and ceased to moan. Then 
I grew drowsy, and kind of lost the run of things after I 
had struck twelve, when some one entered the depot with 
a bright light. I started up. It was the brightest light I 
ever saw, and seemed to fill the room full of glory. I could 
see 'twas a man. He walked to the kneeling figure and 
touched her upon the shoulder. She started up and 
turned her face wildly around. I heard him say : — 

" 'Tis train time, ma'am. Come ! " 

A look of joy came over her face. 

" I am ready," she whispered. 

" Then give me your pass, ma'am." 

She reached him a worn old book, which he took, and 
from it read aloud: — 

" Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden 
and I will give you rest." 

" That's the pass over our road, ma'am. Are you 
ready ? " 

The light died away, and darkness fell in its place. My 
hand touched the stroke of one. Simmons awoke with a 
start and snatched his lantern. The whistle sounded 
down brakes ; the train was due. He ran to the corner 
and shook the old woman. 

" Wake up, marm ; 'tis train time." 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 437 

But she never heeded. He gave one look at the white 
set face, and, dropping his lantern, fled. 

The up train halted, the conductor shouted U A11 
aboard," but no one made a move that way. 

The next morning, when the ticket agent came, he found 
her frozen to death. They whispered among themselves, 
and the coroner made out the verdict "apoplexy," and it 
was in some way hushed up. 

They laid her out in the depot, and advertised for her 
friends, but no one came. So, after the second day, they 
buried her. 

The last look on the sweet old face, lit up with a smile 
so unearthly, I keep with me }^et ; and when I think of 
the occurrence of that night, I know she went out on the 
other train, that never stopped at the poorhouse. 



EARLY RISING 
John G. Saxe 

" God bless the man who first invented sleep ! " 
So Sancho Panz'a said, and so say I : 

And bless him also that he didn't keep 
His great discovery to himself ; nor try 

To make it — as the lucky fellow might — 

A close monopoly by patent right. 

Yes — bless the man who first invented sleep 
(I really can't avoid the iteration ) ; 

But blast the man with curses loud and deep, 
Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, 

Who first invented, aiid went round advertising, 

That artificial cut-off — Early Rising! 



438 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," 
Observes some solemn sentimental owl. 

Maxims like these are very cheaply said ; 
I >ut, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl, 

Pray, just inquire about his rise and fall, 

And whether larks have any beds at all ! 

" The time for honest folks to be abed " 
Is in the morning, if I reason right ; 

And he who cannot keep his precious head 
Upon his pillow till it's fairly light, 

And so enjoy his forty morning winks, 

Is up to knavery ; or else — he drinks. 

Thomson, who sung about the " Seasons," said 
It was a glorious thing to rise in season ; 

But then he said it — lying — in his bed, 
At ten o'clock a.m., — the very reason 

He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is, 

His preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice. 

'Tis, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake, — 
Awake to duty, and awake to truth, — 

But when, alas ! a nice review we take 

Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, 

The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep 

Are those we passed in childhood or asleep ! 

'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile 
For the soft visions of the gentle night ; 

And free, at last, from mortal care or guile, 
To live as only in the angels' sight, 

In sleep's SAveet realm so cosily shut in, 

Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 439 

So, let us sleep, and give the Maker praise. — 
I like the lad who, when his father thought 

To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase 
Of vagrant worm by early songster caught, 

Cried, " Served him right ! it's not at all surprising ; 

The worm was punished, sir, for early rising ! " 

COLUMBIAN ORATION 

Abridged 

[Delivered at the opening of the Columbian Exposition, Chicago, 
October 21, 1892.] 

Henry AVatterson 

We look before and after, and we see, through the half- 
drawn folds of time as through the solemn archways of 
some grand cathedral, the long procession pass, as silent 
and as unreal as a dream. The caravels tossing upon 
Atlantic billows, have their sails refilled from the East 
and bear away to the West. The land is reached, and 
fulfilled is the vision whose actualities are to be gathered 
by other hands than his who planned the voyage and 
steered the bark of discovery. The long sought golden 
day has come to Spain at last, and Castilian conquests 
tread one upon another fast enough to pile up perpetual 
power and riches. 

But even as simple justice was denied Columbus, was 
lasting tenure denied the Spaniard. We look again, and 
we see in the far Northeast the old world struggle between 
the French and the English transferred to the new, ending 
in the tragedy upon the heights above Quebec. We see 
the sturdy Puritans in bell-crowned hats and sable garments 
assail in unequal battle the savage and the elements, over- 



440 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

coming Loth to rise against ;i mightier foe; we seethe gay, 
but dauntless Cavaliers, to the southward, join hands with 
the Roundheads in holy rebellion. And lo ! down from 
the green- walled hills of New England, out of the swamps 
of the Carolinas, come faintly to the ear, like far away 
forest leaves stirred to music by autumn winds, the drum- 
taps of the revolution; the tramp of the minutemen, Israel 
Putnam riding before; the hoofbeats of Sumter's horse 
galloping to the front; the thunder of Stark's guns in 
spirit battle; the gleam of Marion's watch fires in ghostly 
bivouac; and there, there in serried, saintlike ranks on 
fame's eternal camping-ground, stand — 

" The old Continentals, in their ragged regimentals, yielding not," 

as, amid the singing of angels in heaven, the scene is shut 
out from our mortal vision b}^ proud and happy tears. 

We see the rise of the young republic, and the gentle- 
men in knee breeches and powdered wigs who signed the 
Declaration and the gentlemen in knee breeches and pow- 
dered wigs who made the Constitution. We see the little 
nation menaced from without. We see the riflemen in 
hunting-shirt and buckskin swarm from the cabin in the 
wilderness to the rescue of country and home; and our 
hearts swell to a second and final decree of independence, 
won by the prowess and valor of American arms upon 
land and sea. 

And then, and then — since there is no life of nations 
or of men without its shadow and its sorrow — there comes 
a day when the spirits of the fathers no longer walk upon 
the battlements of freedom, and all is dark ; and all seems 
lost, save liberty, and honor, and, praise God, our blessed 
Union. Truly, out of trial comes the strength of man, 
out of disaster comes the glory of the state ! 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 441 

The curse of slavery is gone. It was a joint heritage 
of woe, to be wiped out and expiated in blood and flame. 
The mirage of the Confederacy has vanished. It was 
essentially bucolic, a vision of Arcadia, the dream of a 
most attractive economic fallacy. The exact relation of the 
States to the federal government has been clearly and 
definitely fixed by the three last amendments to the origi- 
nal chart, which constitute the real treaty of peace be- 
tween the North and the South, and seal our bonds as a 
nation forever. The republic represents at last the letter 
and the spirit of the sublime Declaration. The fetters 
that bound her to the earth are burst asunder. The rags 
that degraded her beauty are cast aside. Like the en- 
chanted princess in the legend, clad in spotless raiment 
and wearing a crown of living light, she steps in the per- 
fection of her maturity upon the scene of this the latest 
and proudest of her victories to bid a welcome to the 
world ! Need I pursue the theme ? This vast assemblage 
speaks with a resonance and meaning which words can 
never reach. There is no geography in American man- 
hood. There are no sections to American fraternity. The 
South claims Lincoln, the immortal, for its own ; the North 
has no right to reject Stonewall Jackson, the one typical 
Puritan soldier of the war, for its own ! Nor will it ! The 
time is coming, is almost here, when hanging above many 
a mantel board in fair New England — glorifying many a 
cottage in the sunny South — shall be seen bound together 
in everlasting love and honor two cross-SAVords carried to 
battle respectively by the grandfather who wore the blue 
and the grandfather who wore the gray. . . . God bless 
our country's flag! And God be Avith us, now and ever, 
God in the roof tree's shade and God on the highway, God 
in the winds and waves, and God in all our hearts! 



442 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

AMERICA AND ENGLAND 
Washington Irving 

The members of a republic, above all other men, should 
be candid and dispassionate. They are, individually, por- 
tions of the sovereign mind and sovereign will, and should 
be enabled to come to all questions of national concern with 
calm and unbiased judgments. From the peculiar nature 
of our relations with England, we must have more frequent 
questions of a difficult and delicate character with her, 
than with any other nation ; questions that affect the most 
acute and excitable feelings: and as, in the adjusting of 
these, our national measures must ultimately be determined 
by popular sentiment, we cannot be too anxiously attentive 
to purify it from all latent passion or prepossession. 

Opening too, as we do, an asylum for strangers from 
every portion of the earth, we should receive all with im- 
partiality. It should be our pride to exhibit an example 
of one nation, at least, destitute of national antipathies, 
and exercising, not merely the overt acts of hospitality, but 
those more rare and noble courtesies which spring from 
liberality of opinion. 

What have we to do with national prejudices? They 
are the inveterate diseases of old countries, contracted in 
rude and ignorant ages, when nations knew but little of 
each other, and looked beyond their own boundaries with 
distrust and hostility. We, on the contrary, have sprung 
into national existence in an enlightened and philosophic 
age, when the different parts of the habitable world, and 
the various branches of the human family, have been inde- 
fatigably studied and made known to each other ; and we 
forego the advantages of our birth, if we do not shake off 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 443 

the national prejudices, as we would the local superstitions, 
of the Old World. 

But, above all, let us not be influenced by any angry 
feelings, so far as to shut our eyes to the perception of what 
is really excellent and amiable in the English character. 
We are a young people, necessarily an imitative one, and 
must take our examples and models, in a great degree, 
from the existing nations of Europe. There is no country 
more worthy of our study than England. The spirit of 
her constitution is most analogous to ours. The manners 
of her people — their intellectual activity — their freedom 
of opinion — their habits of thinking on those subjects 
which concern the dearest interests and most sacred char- 
ities of private life, are all congenial to the American 
character ; and, in fact, are all intrinsically excellent : 
for it is in the moral feeling of the people that the deep 
foundations of British prosperity are laid ; and however 
the superstructure may be time-worn, or overrun by abuses, 
there must be something solid in the basis, admirable in the 
materials, and stable in the structure of an edifice that 
so long has towered unshaken amid the tempests of the 
world. 

Let it be the pride of our writers, therefore, discarding 
all feelings of irritation, and disdaining to retaliate the 
illiberality of British authors, to speak of the English 
nation without prejudice, and with determined candor. 
While they rebuke the indiscriminating bigotry with which 
some of our countrymen admire and imitate everything 
English, merely because it is English, let them frankly 
point out what is really worthy of approbation. We may 
thus place England before us as a perpetual volume of 
reference, Avherein are recorded sound deductions from 
ages of experience ; and while we avoid the errors and 



444 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

absurdities that have crept into the page, we may draw 
thence golden maxims of practical wisdom, wherewith to 
strengthen and embellish our national character. 

MY RIVAL 

Rudyard Kipling 

I go to concert, party, ball — what profit is in these ? 
I sit alone against the wall and strive to look at ease. 
The incense that is mine by right they burn before her 

shrine ; 
And that's because I'm seventeen and she is forty-nine. 

I cannot check my girlish blush, my color comes and goes ; 
I redden to my finger tips, and sometimes to my nose. 
But she is wmite where white should be, and red where 

red should shine. 
The blush that flies at seventeen is fixed at forty-nine. 

I wish I had her constant cheek ; I wish that I could sing 
All sorts of funny little songs, not quite the proper thing. 
I'm very gauche and very shy, her jokes aren't in my line ; 
And, worst of all, I'm seventeen, while she is forty-nine. 

The young men come, the young men go, each pink and 

white and neat, 
She's older than their mothers, but they grovel at her feet. 
They walk beside her 'rickshaw wheels — none ever walk 

by mine ; 
And that's because I'm seventeen and she is forty -nine. 

She rides with half a dozen men (she calls them "boys" 

and " rnashes " ), 
I trot along the mall alone ; my prettiest frocks and sashes 
Don't help to fill my programme card, and vainly I repine 
From ten to two A.M. Ah, me ! would I were forty-nine. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 445 

She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear," and "sweet 

retiring maid." 
I'm always at the back, I know, she puts me in the shade. 
She introduces me to men, " cast " lovers, I opine, 
For sixty takes to seventeen, nineteen to forty-nine. 

But even she must older grow and end her dancing days, 
She can't go on forever so at concerts, balls, and plays. 
One ray of priceless hope I see before my footsteps shine : 
Just think, that she'll be eighty-one when I am forty-nine ! 

UNCLE SAM'S GREAT BULLFIGHT 

Eliot White 

They said the bulls were wondrous breed, in horn and 
hoof and brawn, 
And we held them penned in harbor cage to starve them 
fighting-prime ; 
Behind the bars they stamped and raged for their open 
fields of sea, 
Till we hoped wild sport of plunge and toss when came 
the battle time. 

Is this the hour, O Spanish bulls, ye choose in sunny Spain 

To burst upon the matadors in chapel at the mass ? 
But we knew your day was Sunday, and we watched your 
hot black breath 
Curl behind our blue church pennant and along the hill- 
ridge pass. 

Pray with one eye toward the cage bolt ! — some have said 
'tis not full-shot — 
Have the other on the flagship — loose your white ducks, 
throat and hip! 



I |(i SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Sudden jingling bells' "Full forward ! " bugles' cry and 
leap of screws 
Answer whipping flags that shouted, " Bulls are at the 
grating lip ! " 

Had we starved the spirit from them ? Had they heard 
our swords were keen ? 
No lashing tail or bloodshot eye, or splendid rush to 
gore 
In the open hot arena, but the sinking run from death, 
Till we chased in rage to lose the game, goading them 
rear and fore. 

First the banderillos of the six-pound rapid-fires 

We thrust into their shoulders, just to make them snort 
for fight, 
Then we waved our scarfs of scarlet flame, to draw them 
to the charge, 
But up the far ring barriers reeled the frightened beasts 
in flight. 

Close to the torn black flanks we hung, scorning the side- 
long blow 
Of lunging head and wild-aimed horn till we turned 
them to the stand ; 
Then we held our strokes in pity of the great beasts' 
sinking knees, 
When the espada of the thirteen-inch had thrust them 
to the sand. 

Yet not to kill, our passion, but to fend the trampling 
hoofs 
From crushing sunny helpless fields to pash of slime and 
blood ; 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 447 

And it may be two of the wounded bulls we'll raise to life 
again, 
That shall stand guard 'neath the eyries of the Eagle's 
new-fledged brood. 

AFTER THE CHARGE AT LA QUA SIN A 
Edward Marshall 

There is much that is awe-inspiring about the death 
of soldiers on the battlefield. Almost all of us have seen 
men or women die, but they have died in their carefully 
arranged beds with doctors daintily hoarding the flicker- 
ing spark, with loved ones clustered about. But death 
from disease is less awful than death from bullets. On 
the battlefield there are no delicate, scientific problems of 
strange microbes to be solved. There is no petting, no 
coddling — nothing, nothing, nothing but death. The 
man lives, he is strong, he is vital, every muscle in him 
is at its fullest tension, when, suddenly, " chug ! " he is 
dead. That " chug " of the bullets striking flesh is nearly 
always audible. But bullets which are billeted, so far as 
I know, do not sing on their way. They go silently, 
grimly to their mark, and the man is lacerated and torn, 
or dead. I did not hear the bullet shriek that killed 
Hamilton Fish ; I did not hear the bullet shriek that 
struck the many others who were wounded while I was 
near them ; I did not hear the bullet shriek which struck 
me. 

There were several wounded men there before me. 
The first-aid men came along, learned that my wound was 
at the side of and had shattered the spine, and, shaking 
their heads gravely, gave me a weak solution of ammonia 
as a stimulant. I heard one of them sav he would run 



448 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

for the surgeon. He came in a few moments, and I was 
surprised, because he examined me first. He told me I 
was about to die. The news was not pleasant, but it did 
not interest me particularly. 

"Don't you want to send any messages home?" he 
asked. "If you do, you'd better write 'em — be quick." 

I decided to take his advice. 

Not far away was a young man, shot through both 
knees. I had plainly heard the words, " His wound is 
mortal," passed around among the other wounded, in 
hoarse whispers ; and, as I turned my head, I could see 
them all looking at me sorrowfully, and one or two had 
tears in their eyes. The surgeon had done what he could 
for all of us, and had gone away on a keen run to some 
other group. The young man who had been shot through 
both knees painfully worked his way across to me. 

" Fm a stenographer at home," he said, grasping my 
hand, and smoothing it gently. " Let me take your mes- 
sages for you." 

He searched my pockets, got pencil and paper, and 
I stupidly and slowly dictated three letters. I am sure 
I had no real conception of anything that had happened 
since the bullet struck me until, as he finished the last 
letter, he rolled over in a faint with upturned eyes. Then 
I understood my dreadful, but unintentional cruelty, and 
tried to help him. I couldn't move. For the first time I 
knew that I was paralyzed. 

A continual chorus of moans rose through the tree 
branches overhead. The surgeons, with hands and bared 
arms dripping, and clothes literally saturated with blood, 
were straining every nerve to prepare the wounded for the 
journey down to Siboney. It was a doleful group. Ampu- 
tation and death stared its members in their gloomy faces. 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 449 

Suddenly a voice started softly : — 

"My country, 'taa of thee, 

Sweet land of liberty, 
Of thee I sing." 

Other voices took it up : — 

" Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrims' pride — " 

The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans 
and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little 
group of wounded Americans in the midst of the Cuban 
solitude — the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human 
beings ever sang. 

There was one voice that did not quite keep up with 
the others. It was so weak that I did not hear it until all 
the rest had finished with the line : — 

" Let Freedom ring." 

Then, halting, struggling, faint, it repeated, slowly : — 

" Land — of — the — Pilgrims' — pride, 
Let Freedom — " 

The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had 
died as died the fathers. 

THE NEW SOUTH 

"Henry W. Grady 

"There was a South of slavery and secession — that 
South is dead. There is a South of union and freedom 
— that South, thank God, is living, breathing, growing 
every hour/' These words, delivered from the immortal 
lips of Benjamin H. Hill, at Tammany Hall, in 1866, true 
then, and truer now, I shall make my text to-night. 

SOU. SCH. 5PEA. — 29 



450 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

Dr. Talmage has drawn for you, with a master hand, 
the picture of your returning armies. He has told you 
how, in the pomp and circumstance of war, they came 
back to you, marching with proud and victorious tread, 
reading their glory in a nation's eyes ! Will you bear 
with me while I tell you of another army that sought its 
home at the close of the late war ? An army that marched 
home in defeat and not in victory — in pathos and not in 
splendor, but in glory that equaled yours, and to hearts 
as loving as ever welcomed heroes home. Let me picture 
to you the foot-sore Confederate soldier, as, buttoning up 
in his faded gray jacket, the parole which was to bear 
testimony to his children of his fidelity and faith, he 
turned his face southward from Appomattox in April, 
1865! Think of him as ragged, half-starved, heavy- 
hearted, enfeebled by want and wounds : having fought 
to exhaustion, he surrenders his gun, wrings the hand of 
his comrade in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained and 
pallid face for the last time to the graves that dot the 
old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and 
begins the slow and painful journey. What does he 
find ? — let me ask you who went to your homes eager to 
find, in the welcome you had justly earned, full payment 
for four years' sacrifice — what does he find when, having 
followed the battle stained cross against overwhelming 
odds, dreading death not half so much as surrender, he 
reaches the home he left so prosperous and beautiful ? 
He finds his house in ruins, his farm devastated, his slaves 
free, his stock killed, his barn empty, his trade destroyed, 
his money worthless ; his social system, feudal in its mag- 
nificence, swept away ; his people without law or legal 
status ; his comrades slain, and the burdens of others 
heavy on his shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 451 

traditions gone ; without money, credit, employment, 
material training ; and besides all this, confronted with 
the gravest problem that ever met human intelligence — 
the establishing of a status for the vast body of his 
liberated slaves. 

What does he do — this hero in gray, with a heart of 
gold ? Does he sit down in sullenness and despair ? Not 
for a day. Surely God, who had stripped him of his 
prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin was 
never before so overwhelming, never was restoration 
swifter. The soldier stepped from the trenches into the 
furrow ; horses that had charged Federal guns marched 
before the plow, and the fields that ran red with human 
blood in April were green with the harvest in June ; 
women reared in luxury cut up their dresses and made 
breeches for their husbands, and with a patience and 
heroism that fit women always as a garment, gave their 
hands to work. There was little bitterness in all this. 
Cheerfulness and frankness prevailed. ... I want to say 
to General Sherman, who is considered an able man in 
our parts, though some people think he is kind of careless 
about fire, that from the ashes he left us in 1864, we have 
raised a brave and beautiful city ; that somehow or other 
we have caught the sunshine in the bricks and mortar of 
our homes, and have builded therein not one ignoble 
prejudice or memory. 

But in all this what have we accomplished? What is 
the sum of our work ? We have found that in the general 
summary the free negro counts more than he did as a 
slave. We have planted the schoolhouse on the hilltop 
and made it free to white and black. We have sowed 
towns and cities in the place of theories, and put business 
above politics. We have learned that the $400,000,000 



452 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

annually received from our cotton crop will make us rich, 
when the supplies that make it are home-raised. We have 
reduced the commercial rate of interest from twenty-four 
to four per cent, and are floating four per cent bonds. 
We have learned that one Northern immigrant is worth 
fifty foreigners, and have smoothed the path to the south- 
ward, wiped out the place where Mason and Dixon's line 
used to he, and hung out our latchstring to you and 
yours. 

The new South is enamoured of her new work. Her 
soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light 
of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrill- 
ing with the consciousness of a growing power and pros- 
perity. As she stands upright, full-statured, and equal 
among the people of the earth, breathing the keen air and 
looking out upon the expanding horizon, she understands 
that her emancipation came because in the inscrutable 
wisdom of God her honest purpose was crossed and her 
brave armies beaten. 

This is said in no spirit of time-serving or apology. 
The South has nothing for which to apologize. The 
South has nothing to take back. In my native town 
of Athens is a monument that crowns its central hills — 
a plain, white shaft. Deep cut into its shining side is a 
name dear to me above the names of men, that of a brave 
and simple man who died in a brave and simple faith. 
Not for all the glories of New England — from Plymouth 
Rock all the way — would I exchange the heritage he left 
me in his soldier's death. To the feet of that shaft I shall 
send my children's children to reverence him who ennobled 
their name with his heroic blood. But, sir, speaking from 
the shadow of that memory, which I honor as I do nothing 
else on earth, I say that the cause in which he suffered 



MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 453 

and for which he gave his life was adjudged by higher 
and fuller wisdom than his or mine, and I am glad that 
the omniscient God held the balance of battle in his 
almighty hand, and that human slavery was swept for- 
ever from American soil — the American Union saved 
from the wreck of the war. 

Now what answer has New England to this message ? 
Will she permit the prejudice of war to remain in the 
hearts of the conquerors, when it has died in the hearts 
of the conquered? Will she transmit this prejudice to 
the next generation, that in their hearts, which never felt 
the generous ardor of conflict, it may perpetuate itself. 
Will she withhold, save in strained courtesy, the hand 
which, straight from his soldier's heart, Grant offered to 
Lee at Appomattox? Will she make the vision of a 
restored and happy people, which gathered above the 
couch of our dying captain, filling his heart with grace, 
touching his lips with praise, and glorifying his path to 
the grave ; will she make this vision, on which the last 
sigh of his expiring soul breathed a benediction, a cheat 
and a delusion ? If she does, the South, never abject in 
asking for comradeship, must accept with dignity its 
refusal ; but if she does not — if she accepts with frank- 
ness and sincerity this message of goodwill and friendship, 
then will the prophecy of Webster, delivered in this very 
Society forty years ago, amid tremendous applause, be 
verified in its fullest and final sense, when he said : 
" Standing hand to hand and clasping hands, we should 
remain united as we have for sixty years, citizens of the 
same country, members of the same government, united 
all, united now, and united forever. There have been 
difficulties, contentions, and controversies, but I tell you 
that in my judgment, — 



454 SCHOOL SPEAKER 

" ' Those opposed eyes, 
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
All of one nature, of one substance bred, 
Did lately meet in th' intestine shock, 
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks 
March all one way.' " 



THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD 
Longfellow 

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, 
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; 

But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
Startles the villages with strange alarms. 

Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, 
When the death angel touches those swift keys ! 

What loud lament and dismal Miserere 
Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, 

The cries of agony, the endless groan 
Which, through the ages that have gone before us, 

In long reverberations reach our own. 

On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, 

Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song, 

And loud, amid the universal clamor, 

O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. 

I hear the Florentine, who from his palace 
Wheels out his battle bell with dreadful din, 

And Aztec priests upon their teocallis 

Beat the wild war drums made of serpent's skin ; 






MISCELLANEOUS SELECTIONS 455 

The tumult of each sacked and burning village ; 

The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; 
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage ; 

The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; 

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade ; 

And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, 
The diapason of the canonnade. 

Is it, O man, with such discordant noises 
With such accursed instruments as these, 

Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, 
And jarrest the celestial harmonies? 

Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, 
Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, 

Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
There were no need of arsenals or forts : 

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! 

And every nation, that should lift again 
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 

Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! 

Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! 

But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



Numbers refer to pages 



Adams, John Quincy. 

The Mission of America, 116. 
Addison, Joseph. 

Cato on Immortality, 243. 
.ffischylus. 

The Battle of Salamis, 227. 
Alexander, Mrs. C. F. 

The Burial of Moses, 223. 
Anderson, Waldron W. 

As the Sun went Down, 187. 
Anonymous. 

Brother Watkins, 132. 

On the Other Train, 434. 

She Waved, 104. 

The Ferryman, 140. 

The House that Jack Built, 
105. 

The Petrified Fern, 158. 

Thought and Language, 44. 

United in Death, 398. 
Arkwright, Peleg (D. L. Proudfit). 

Poor Little Joe, 62. 
Austin, Alfred. 

Ave Maria, 145. 
Aytoun, W. E. 

The Heart of the Bruce, 282. 
Bailey, J. M. 

Calling a Boy in the Morning, 
92. 
Beecher, Henry Ward. 

National Morality, 421. 
Bible, The. 

Paul's Defense, 250. 
Boucicault, Dion. 

Scene from London Assurance, 
207. 
Bourdillon, F. W. 

A Lost Legend, 262. 
Bright, John. 

England's True Greatness, 427. 



Browning, Robert. 

" How they brought the Good 
News from Ghent to Aix," 310. 

The Boy and the Angel, 289. 
Bryant, W. C. 

Thanatopsis, 174. 

To a Waterfowl, 178. 
Bulwer-Lytton, Edward. 

Richelieu's Vindication, 86. 
Burdette, R. J. 

The Gray Day, 142. 
Burns, Robert. 

Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, 167. 

John Anderson, my Jo, 84. 
Byron. 

Ambition, 143. 

Apostrophe to the Ocean, 364. 

Exhortation to the Greeks, 366. 

Rome, 186. 

Waterloo, 366. 
Calhoun, John C. 

Liberty and Intelligence, 371. 
Campbell, Thomas. 

Hohenlinden, 60. 
Carlyle, Thomas. 

Await the Issue, 34. 

Nature a Hard Creditor, 425. 
Castelar, Emilio. 

Tribute to Lincoln, 412. 
Chatham, Lord. 

Speech on the American War, 338. 
Cicero, Marcus Tullius. 

Oration against Catiline, 241. 
Clay, Henry. 

My Ambition, 117. 

Sympathy with the Greeks, 366. 

True Patriotism, 25. 
Clemens, S. C. (Mark Twain.) 

How I Edited an Agricultural 
Paper, 428. 



457 



458 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



Clough, Arthur Hugh. 

Say not the Struggle Naught 
Availeth, 414. 
Cochran, Burke. 

Decoration Day, 402. 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. 

The Phantom Ship, 200. 
Coppee, Francois. 

The Benediction, 361. 
Croly, George. 

Catiline's Defiance, 00. 
Curtis, George William. 

Duty of the American Scholar, 
113. 

Patriotism, 115. 
Dallas, Mary Kyle. 

Aunty Doleful's Visit, 76. 
Demosthenes. . 

Close of the Oration on the 
Crown, 229. 
Depew, Chauncey M. 

Columbus, 295. 
Dickens, Charles. 

Mr. Winkle on Skates (Pickwick 
Papers), 391. 

Old Fezziwig's Ball, 388. 
Dobson, Austin. 

Ballad of the Spanish Armada, 
305. 
Donnelly, Eleanor C. 

Gualberto's Victory, 274. 
Dorr, Julia C. R. 

Legend of the Organ Builder, 
277. ■ 
Doyle, A. P. 

In Defense of the Christian Sun- 
day, 128. 
Dryden. 

Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, 152. 
Emerson, R. W. 

Each and All, 144. 
Everett, Edward. 

Galileo, 303. 

Our Kepublic, 394. 

The Flag, 189. 
Finch, F. M. 

The Blue and the Gray, 404. 
Garland, Hamlin. 

Sport, 218. 
Gilbert, W. S. 

The Yarn of the "Nancy Bell,"416. 

To the Terrestrial Globe, 86. 



Gladstone, W. E. 

Empire and Liberty, 432. 
Goldsmith, Oliver. 

The Village Preacher, 360. 

The Village Schoolmaster, 45. 
Gough, John B. 

The Power of Habit, 93. 
Grady, Henry W. 

The New South, 449. 
Greene, Homer. 

De Quincey's Deed, 297, 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene. 

Marco Bozzaris, 368. 
Hay, John. 

The Curse of Hungary, 314. 
Hayne, Robert Y. 

The South during the Revolu- 
tion, 341. 
Hemans, Felicia. 

The Fall of D'Assas, 82. 
Henry, Patrick. 

An Appeal to Arms, 332. 

Liberty, or Death, 334. 
Higginson, Thomas W. 

Rabiah's Defense, 255. 
Holland, J. G. 

Gradatim, 33. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell. 

Old Ironsides, 359. 

The Ballad of the Oysterman, 
23 

The Boys, 125. 

The Last Leaf, 373. 

The Music Grinders, 422. 

The September Gale, 369. 

Union and Liberty, 68. 
Homer. 

The Victory of Hector, 221. 
Hood, Thomas. 

The Bridge of Sighs, 71. 
Howe, Julia Ward. 

Battle Hymn of the Republic, 396„ 
Hugo, Victor. 

Caught in the Quicksand, 419. 

Envy and Avarice, 225. 

The Emperor's Return, 288. 

The Father's Curse, 280. 
Irving, Washington. 

America and England, 442. 
Jerrold, Douglas. 

A Curtain Lecture of Mrs. Cau- 
dle, 375. 



INDEX TO AUTHORS 



459 



Keats, John. 

Beauty (Proem to Endymion), 
17(5. 

La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 
209. 

Scene from King Stephen, 198. 
Kellogg, Elijah. 

Spartacus to the Gladiators, 
237. 
Kipling, Rudyard. 

My Rival, 444. 
Knowles, Sheridan. 

William Tell among the Moun- 
tains, 287. 
Lathrop, George Parsons. 

Keenan's Charge, 74. 
Lincoln, Abraham. 

Dedication of Gettysburg Ceme- 
tery, 401. 

Second Inaugural Address, 406. 
Longfellow, H. W. 

A Psalm of Life, 49. 

Resignation, 188. 

Seaweed, 107. 

The Arsenal at Springfield, 454. 

The Day is Done, 163. 

The Exile of the Acadians, 316. 

The Old Clock on the Stairs, 
160. 

The Skeleton in Armor, 257. 
Lowell, J. R. 

June, 183. 

The Courtin', 381. 
Macaulay, T. B. 

Charles the First, 47. 

The Battle of Ivry, 307. 

The Death of Herminius, 232. 

From Horat.ius, 157. 
McKinley, William. 

Education, 43. 

Washington's Foreign Policy, 
346. 
Mann, Horace. 

Orient Yourself, 112. 
Marshall, Edward. 

After the Charge at La Quasina, 
447. 
Mendum, Georgiana. 

Tahawus, 186. 
Milton, John. 

Invocation from Paradise Lost, 
56. 



Mitford, Mary Russell. 

Rienzi to the Romans, 253. 
Moore, Thomas. 

The Minstrel Boy, 184. 

Those Evening Bells, 141. 
O'Connell, Daniel. 

The Irish Disturbance Bill, 130. 
Peck, Samuel Minturn. 

My Grandmother's Fan, 154. 
Phillips, Wendell. 

Toussaint L'Ouverture, 385. 
Pope, Alexander. 

The Dying Christian to his Soul, 
185. 
Procter, Adelaide A. 

A Legend of Bregenz, 299. 

The Nights, 160. 

The Story of the Faithful Soul, 
267. 
Quincy, Josiah. 

The Embargo, 353. 
Read, Thomas Buchanan. 

The Revolutionary Rising, 335. 
Roberts, Charles G. D. 

The Ballad of the "Laughing 
Sally," 326. 
Roche, James Jeffrey. 

The Fight of the "Armstrong" 
Privateer, 355. 
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel. 

Aspecta Medusa, 52. 
Ruskin, John. 

Great Art, 52. 

The Clouds, 168. 

The Sky, 165. 
Sargeant, John. 

The Law of Success, 100. 
Saxe, John G. 

Early Rising, 437. 
Scott, Walter. 

The Ballad of Alice Brand, 
271. 

The Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee, 
312. 

The Death of Marmion, 297. 
Shakespeare. 

Antony's Lament over Csesar, 
244. 

Antony's Oration over Caesar, 
245. 

Brutus on the Death of Caesar, 
46. 



400 



INDEX TO AUTIIOIIS 



Shakespeare (continued). 

Cardinal Wolsey, on being cast 

off by Henry VIII, 196. 
From the Graveyard Scene, 293. 
Hamlet's Instruction to the Play- 
ers, 88. 
Hamlet's Soliloquy, 104. 
Henry V to his Troops, 155. 
Music (from " Merchant of Ven- 
ice," Act V), 172. 
Othello's Defense, 21. 
Polonius to Laertes, 32. 
Portia's Plea for Mercy, 89. 
Queen Katharine's Appeal to 

Henry VIII, 195. 
Seven Ages of Man, 151. 
The Quarrel between Brutus and 
Cassius, 202. 
Shelley, P. B. 

The Cloud, 1G9. 
Sheridan, R. B. 

Scene from the Rivals (Mrs. 
Malaprop and Sir Antony), 
209. 
Scene from the Rivals (Sir An- 
tony and Captain Absolute), 
212. 
Smith, Horace. 

To a Mummy, 219. 
Southey, Robert. 

The Cataract of Lodore, 101. 
Taylor, Jeremy. 

The Drunkard, 127. 
Taylor, Tom. 

Abraham Lincoln, 409. 
Tennyson, Alfred. 

A Welcome to Alexandra, 181. 

Break, Break, Break, 40. 

Bugle Song, 166. 

Charge of the Light Brigade, 69. 

Lady Clare, 57. 

Ring out, Wild Bells, 415. 

Sweet and Low, 46. 

The Captain, 324. 



Tennyson (continued). 
The Eagle, 139. 

The Victim, 216. 
Thackeray, W. M. 

King Canute, 203. 
Tomson, Graham R. 

The Wrecker of Priest's Cove, 
329. 
Ware, William. 

Zenobia to her People, 285. 
Washington, George. 

From the Farewell Address, 
348. 

Our Relations with Europe, 349. 
Watterson, Henry. 

Columbian Oration, 439. 
Webster, Daniel. 

Liberty and Union, 383. 

South Carolina and Massachu- 
setts, 342. 

True Eloquence, 20. 
Werner, A. 

In a Theater, 240. 
Whipple, E. P. 

The Character of Washington, 
345. 
Whitcomb, Charlotte. 

The Glen, 139. 
White, Eliot. 

Uncle Sam's Great Bullfight, 
445. 
Whitman, Walt. 

O Captain, my Captain, 408. 

Sailing the Mississippi at Mid- 
night, 173. 

Talk to an Art Union, 25. 
Whittier. J. G. 

Barclay of Ury, 319. 

The Angels of Buena Vista, 378. 

True Beauty, 141. 
Willis, N. P. 

The Widow of Nain, 249. 
Wordsworth, William. 

Toussaint L'Ouverture, 388. 






INDEX TO SELECTIONS 



Numbers refer to pages 



Abraham Lincoln, Taylor, 409. 

After the Charge at La Quasina, 
Marshall, 447. 

Ambition, Byron, 143. 

America and England, Irving, 442. 

Angels of Buena Vista, The, Whittier, 
378. 

Antony's Lament over Caesar, Shake- 
speare, 244. 

Antony's Oration over Caesar, Shake- 
speare, 245. 

Apostrophe to the Ocean, Byron, 304. 

Appeal to Arms, An, Henry, 332. 

Arsenal at Springfield, The, Long- 
fellow, 454. 

Aspecta Medusa, Rosetti, 52. 

As the Sun went Down, A nderson, 187. 

Aunty Doleful's Visit, Kyle, 70. 

Ave Maria, Austin, 145. 

Await the Issue, Carlyle, 34. 

Ballad of Alice Brand, The, Scott, 271. 

Ballad of the Laughing Sally, The, 
Roberts, 320. 

Ballad of the Oysterman, The, Holmes, 
23. 

Ballad of the Spanish Armada, Dob- 
son, 305. 

Barclay of Ury, Whittier, 319. 

Battle Hymn of the Republic, Howe, 
390. 

Battle of Ivry, Macaulay, 307. 

Battle of Salamis, The, Aeschylus, 
227. 

Beauty (Proem to Endymion) , Keats, 
170. 

Benediction, The, CoppCe, 351. 

Blue and the Gray, The, Finch, 404. 



Bonnets of Bonnie Dundee, The, Scott, 
312. 

Boy and the Angel, The, Browning, 289. 

Boys, The, Holmes, 125. 

Break, Break, Break, Tennyson, 40. 

Bridge of Sighs, The, Hood, 71. 

Brother Watkins, Anon., 132. 

Brutus on the Death of Caesar, Shake- 
speare, 40. 

Bugle Song, Tennyson, 100. 

Burial of Moses, The, Alexander, 
223. 

Calling a Boy in the Morning, Bailey, 

92. 
Captain, The, Tennyson, 324. 
Cardinal Wolsey on being cast off by 

Henry VIII., Shakespeare, 190. 
Cataract of Lodore, The, Southey, 

101. 
Catiline's Defiance, Croly, 90. 
Cato on Immortality, Addison, 243. 
Caught in the Quicksand, Hugo, 419. 
Character of Washington, The, 

Whipple, 345. 
Charge of the Light Brigade, Tennyson, 

09. 
Charles the First, Macaulay, 47. 
Close of the Oration on the Crown, 

Demosthenes, 229. 
Clouds, The, Ruskin, 108. 
Cloud, The, Shelley, 109. 
Columbian Oration, Watterson, 439. 
Columbus, Depew, 295. 
Courtin', The, Lowell, 381. 
Curse of Hungary, The, Hay, 314. 
Curtain Lecture of Mrs. Caudle, A, 

Jerrold, 375. 



461 



462 



INDEX TO SELECTIONS 



Day is Done, The, Longfellow, 163. 
Death of Herminius, Macaulay, 232. 
Death of Marmion, The, Scott, 297. 
Decoration Day, Cochran, 402. 
Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery, 

Lincoln, 401. 
De Quincey's Deed, Greene, 307. 
Drunkard, The, Taylor, 127. 
Duty of the American Scholar, Curtis, 

113. 
Dying Christian to his Soul, The, Pope, 

185. 

Each and All, Emerson, 144. 
Eagle, The, Tennyson, 139. 
Early Rising, Saxe, 437. 
Education, McKinley, 43. 
Embargo, The, Quincy, 353. 
Emperor's Return, The, Hugo, 288. 
Empire and Liberty, Gladstone, 432. 
England's True Greatness, Bright ,427. 
Envy and Avarice, Hugo, 225. 
Exhortation to the Greeks, Byron, 

366. 
Exile of the Acadians, Longfellow, 316. 

Fall of D'Assas, The, Hemans, 82. 
Farewell Address, Extracts from the, 

Washington, 348. 
Father's Curse, The, Hugo, 280. 
Ferryman, The, Anon., 140. 
Fight of the " Armstrong " Privateer, 

The, Roche, 355. 
Flag, The, Everett, 189. 
Flow gently Sweet Afton, Burns, 167. 

Galileo, Everett, 303. 
Glen, The, Whitcomb, 139. 
Gradatim, Holland, 33. 
Graveyard Scene, From the, Shake- 
speare, 293. 
Gray Day, The, Burdette, 142. 
Great Art, Ruskin, 52. 
Gualberto's Victory, Donnelly, 274. 

Hamlet's Instruction to the Players, 

Shakespeare, 88. 
Hamlet's Soliloquy, Shakespeare, 194. 
Heart of the Bruce, The, Aytoun, 

282. 



Henry V. to his Troops, Shakespeare, 

155. 
Hohenlinden, Campbell, 60. 
Horatius, From, Macaulay, 157. 
House that Jack Built, Anon., 105. 
How I edited an Agricultural Paper, 

Clemens, 428. 
"How they brought the Good News 

from Ghent to Aix," Browning, 310. 

In a Theater, Werner, 240. 

In Defense of the Christian Sunday, 

Doyle, 128. 
Invocation from Paradise Lost, Milton, 

56. 
Irish Disturbance Bill, The, O'Connell, 

130. 

John Anderson my Jo, Burns, 84. 
June, Lowell, 183. 

Keenan's Charge, Lathrop, 74. 
King Canute, Thackeray, 263. 

La Belle Dame sans Merci, Keats, 269. 
Lady Clare, Tennyson, 57. 
Last Leaf, The, Holmes, 373. 
Law of Success, The, Sargeant, 100. 
Legend of Bregenz, A, Procter, 299. 
Legend of the Organ Builder, Dorr, 211. 
Liberty and Intelligence, Calhoun, 371. 
Liberty and Union, Webster, 383. 
Liberty or Death, Henry, 334. 
Lost Legend, A, Bourdillon, 262. 

Marco Bozzaris, Halleck, 368. 
Minstrel Boy, The, Moore, 184. 
Mission of America, The, Adams, 116. 
Mr. Winkle on Skates, Dickens, 391. 
Music (from " Merchant of Venice,") 

Shakespeare, 172. 
Music Grinders, The, Holmes, 422. 
My Ambition, Clay, 117. 
My Grandmother's Fan, Peck, 154. 
My Rival, Kipling, 444. 

National Morality, Beecher, 421. 
Nature a Hard Creditor, Carlyle, 425. 
New South, The, Grady, 449. 
Nights, The, Procter, 160. 



INDEX TO SELECTIONS 



463 



O Captain, my Captain, Whitman, 
408- 

Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, Dry den, 
152. 

Old Clock on the Stairs, The, Long- 
fellow, 160. 

Old Fezziwig's Ball, Dickens, 388. 

Old Ironsides, Holmes, 359. 

On the Other Train, Anon., 434. 

Oration against Catiline, Cicero, 241. 

Orient Yourself, Mann, 112. 

Othello's Defense, Shakespeare, 21. 

Our Relations with Europe, Washing- 
ton 349. 

Our Republic, Everett, 394. 

Patriotism, Curtis, 115. 

Paul's Defense before Agrippa, Bible, 

250. 
Petrified Fern, The, Anon., 158. 
Phantom Ship, The, Coleridge, 200. 
Polonius to Laertes, Shakespeare, 32. 
Poor Little Joe, Arkiv right, 62. 
Portia's Plea for Mercy, Shakespeare, 

89. 
Power of Habit, The, Gough, 93. 
Psalm of Life, A, Longfellow, 49. 

Quarrel between Brutus and Cassius, 

Shakespeare, 202. 
Queen Katharine's Appeal to Henry 

VIII. for Mercy, Shakespeare, 195. 

Rabiah's Defense, Higginson, 255. 
Resignation, Longfellow, 188. 
Revolutionary Rising, The, Read, 335. 
Richelieu's Vindication, Bulwer-Lyt- 

ton, 8G. 
Rienzi to the Romans, Mitford, 253. 
Ring Out Wild Bells, Tennyson, 415. 
Rome, Byron, 186. 

Sailing the Mississippi at Midnight, 

Whitman, 173. 
Say not the Struggle Naught Avail- 

eth, Clough, 414. 
Scene from King Stephen, Keats, 198. 
Scene from London Assurance, Bou- 

cicault, 207. 
Scene from The Rivals (Mrs. Mala- 



prop and Sir Anthony), Sheridan, 

20!). 
Scene from The Rivals (Sir Anthony 

and Captain Absolute), Sheridan 

212. 
Seaweed, Longfellow, 107. 
Second Inaugural Address, Washing- 
ton, 406. 
September Gale, The, Holmes, 369. 
Seven Ages of Man, Shakespeare, 

151. 
She Waved, Anon., 104. 
Skeleton in Armor, The, Longfellow, 

257. 
Sky, The, Ruskin, 165. 
South Carolina and Massachusetts, 

Webster, 342. 
South during the Revolution, The, 

Hayne, 341. 
Spartacus to the Gladiators, Kellogg, 

237. 
Speech on the Amorican War, 

Chatham, 338. 
Sport, Garland, 218. 
Story of the Faithful Soul, The, Proc- 
ter, 267. 
Sweet and Low, Tennyson, 46. 
Sympathy with the Greeks, Clay, 

366. 

Tahawus, Mendum, 186. 

Talk to an Art Union, Whitman, 25. 

Thanatopsis, Bryant, 174. 

Those Evening Bells, Moore, 141. 

Thought and Language, Anon., 44. 

To a Mummy, Smith, 219. 

To a Waterfowl, Bryant, 178. 

To the Terrestrial Ball, Gilbert, 86. 

Toussaint L'Ouverture, Phillips, 385. 

Toussaint L'Ouverture, Wordsworth, 

388. 
Tribute to Lincoln, Castelar, 412. 
True Beauty, Whittier, 141. 
True Eloquence, Webster, 20. 
True Patriotism, Clay, 25. 

Uncle Sam's Great Bull Fight, White, 

445. 
Union and Liberty, Holmes, 68. 
United in Death, Anon., 398. 



464 



INDEX TO SELECTIONS 



Victim, The, Tennyson, 215. 
Victory of Hector, The, Homer, 'I'll. 
Village Preacher, The, Goldsmith, 360. 

Village Schoolmaster, The, Goldsmith, 
45. 

Washington's Foreign Policy, Mc- 

Kinley, 34(5. 
Waterloo, Byron, 361, 
Welcome to Alexandra, A, Tennyson, 

181. 



Widow of Nain, The, Willis, 249. 

William Tell, among the Mountains, 
Knowles, 287. 

Wrecker of Priest's Cove, The, Tom- 
sot), 32!). 

Yarn of The Nancy Bell, Gilbert, 
41G. 

Zeuohia to her People, Ware, 285. 



16 1900 



